Freefall.

My stomach hurts all the time, no matter how the rest of me feels. I know it's an ulcer (I'm prone to them at times of high stress, this is my third) but it's also that feeling you get on roller coasters, at that moment when gravity takes hold of your outards but hasn't quite reached your innards. That freefalling sensation. I get chest pains, too. Like right now. Tachycardia - rapid heart rate. And my hands shake. Sometimes a little, sometimes enough that I have trouble holding onto things.

This isn't life on the edge, it's life in the air. There's no balance, only the freefall. And I KNOW there's a net at the bottom to catch me. There always is. I will be okay, just as I've always been okay.

But I'm not okay yet, and that's taking its toll.

I'm still suffering from the loss of my beloved Cadence - a wound that will never heal properly due to lack of closure. A wound inflicted by a man I thought I could trust.

I still feel kind of homeless. I'm living in someone else's home, what few possessions I have with me in bags or boxes, the remainder still in a place I no longer feel comfortable.

My poor Twinkie doesn't know what to think. First abused, then kicked out with his sister, then back home without her, and now living alone in a garage, seeing me only once or twice a day.

And just Tuesday I received some very bad news, unrelated to all the chaos of the last two weeks, but of the "Oh shit, what am I going to do now?" variety.

These things will work themselves out. God is with me, as are my friends. I will be fine, as I always have been.

But Lord, I'm sick of falling.