I know there will be harder times ahead, but this is the hardest week I have ever lived through.
Most of my body and soul feel like dead weight, numb and heavy and lifeless. I have no will or motivation to do anything, to be anywhere. The rest of me is hypersensitive and fragile, ready to crack and break and break down at the drop of a pin. You need to stop crying now and take care of yourself you say, so I try to.
Time has stopped here, and I find myself at a loss for words. I worry I will regret conversations I didn't think to have. I worry I'm not letting myself grieve properly. But the truth is, you could let yourself grieve forever over things like this. Where is the balance between letting go and adapting to new realities? This is not the worst case scenario we could be facing, and yet there is something so poignant and sad that I cannot come to terms with yet.