One of the ladies at the women's meeting told me I needed to go through the stages of grief. I thought she was talking about Cadence. And maybe she was.
But it's not my cat that I need to grieve for. Or my last disastrous relationship.
It's me.
I'm what I've lost. I'm what I need to grieve for. I have to learn how to live when so much of me is dead.
I killed myself. A little bit at a time. I parceled myself out until...until how much is left? Not enough.
There's so much I can't get back. What do I do? Is there some way to grow anew? Or is this all that I'll ever be? This empty shell?
There is so much time left to grow. Consider yourself a starfish: one arm was chopped off, but it will grow back and you will be whole again.
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