I try not to steer too far off track with this blog. It began because a co-worker – and friend – encouraged me to write.
“Write that shit out until you can’t write anymore!”
And…as you all know, I have heeded his advice.
And it truly has helped me, even though more often than not, I seem as though I am an absolute clusterfuck of a hot mess. Well, in truth, I have been. Sometimes I still am. But, I don’t know…
I know every minute of my life with Bob and every single second of my life without him.
I remember all the hopes, dreams, plans, speculation, wishes and scenarios. I can hear the promises, the whispers, the laughs, the giggles, the … love.
I know these things. I recall these moments. I do. Me. My. Life.
Anddddd off track I go…
I’d like to say that I am pretty certain that writing all my shit out repeatedly and honestly and painfully truthful, has helped keep me alive.
The point I’m trying to make,
The point I need to make,
Is that while I can’t swear to being brave and strong and able to suck up all this damage that has been done to me by Bob, entirely keeping my suicidal thoughts at bay, I can tell you that I have a reason to try really, really, really hard: