When am I ever going to let go?
Or more accurately, how do I let myself go?
Earlier this month I took a long overdue break with my girlfriends.
What I did not expect was an almost intervention.
It’s never been easy for me to open up. I’m aloof. A creature that needs a lot of space. But according to them, I have closed myself off even more over the last year. Ever since I lost dad, I guess. Grieving is a process and I’ve been going through that. It’s not been the denial, anger, bargain, depression, acceptance stuff, because after three weeks of watching your hero devoid of movement, speech or though, your beyond anger or bargaining. You go straight to depression. And when you have the added responsibility of running a family and nursing a depressed mum, you barely even have the luxury of depression. You simply add a few layers to that brick wall around you and chug along.
I started blogging when my dad was admitted in hospital. Flash fiction is such a beautiful escape. Plus its so much easier to talk to strangers than the people around you, to have a relationship with someone who you’ll never meet, who wont ask you those intimate questions. No expectations, no judgement, no prodding, and no fear of losing anyone. Just like-minded people casually sharing their souls with one another. A relationship most intimate yet least risky.
In the process I had apparently been staying away from the people who I had chosen as my family. ‘We gave you time, now snap out of it,’ is the ultimatum that has been delivered to me.
These are tenacious women. I better knock down a few bricks or someone is going to be huffing and puffing till they break the house down. I love them. With all my heart. But I still need to figure out how to let myself go.
In response to the Stream of Consciousness Saturday prompt ‘When’