“Like my soul is getting sucked out of my mouth”

I am sharing things that I feel I have already processed to a degree with you all. Doing things in a certain order gives me time to realize what it is I am actually feeling–and when it is realized, felt, embraced, and understood only then can I share it willfully. I was reading through my journal today looking for something to share and post, and I stumbled across the sad and angry rant. Anger and fear have been two close companions since Ella died…they are real emotions and entirely exhausting.

Another stupid sunday night. What starts out as a possibility in the morning, a faint glimmer of forgetfulness turns out to be a dose of self-imposed denial. When all of this fades away, it peels back to reveal the reality of what I’ve become. An angry woman. I don’t know if my moments of sustained grace are actual, or pretended, authentic, or fabricated. Unable to judge anything on my emotions–I struggle to remain justified. Struggle to not be dreadfully afraid. Fear and anger. I feel a complete voidness of love. Fear and anger, and despair and anger, and brief distraction from my pain.

I have this scab on my hand, and I keep bumping it on something everyday–its infected and keeps re-scabbing. Seems like it’s never going to heal. A small reflection of my whole condition. I feel like this enormous scab…I am an open wound and my layers keep getting ripped off again and again. For a moment I heal, but that wound is always there. It’s so hard for my accept this as my mortal forever reality. How this loss–it’s hard to even write her name these days. The loss of Ella will NEVER EVER be right with  my soul. Nothing is well with my soul. I’m screaming at the top of my lungs–a freight train in a tunnel…but the noise never escapes the dark abyss, and no one has ever heard it.

Sometimes this grief is so unbearable–grief makes things, at least for me, incredibly loud, so excruciatingly loud. Yet my cries come out in silent whispers. Like I’ve truly lost my voice–all the notes, and tunes, and frequencies can’t come out. Just these dry cracked whispers. Like my soul is getting sucked out of my mouth.


2 thoughts on ““Like my soul is getting sucked out of my mouth”

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