I confess to wanting to fast forward a lot.

Here's a post from my diary this past year:
. . . .

I bristled at the note of panic in the incoming text: YOU OK?????

Um, no. I'm not okay. I spent Sunday in a fetal position sobbing.

Monday I almost quit my job because the idea of leaving bed evoked panic. But so did staying, and in the end I went.

Tuesday I laughed with friends and I let their love for me form a little hammock and I lay in it and healed for a bit.

So no, I'm not really okay. But I'm okay sometimes.

This is life after you walk away from a 17-year relationship. Death & divorce are the top life stressors.

Divorce pending, CHECK. Death of a dream, CHECK.

I'm allowed to have a shitty life right now.

I congratulate myself on just going through the motions sometimes. I confess to wanting to fast forward a lot.

So please, check in on me. See how I'm doing. But please don't panic at my stress. I'll be okay in time. I'm sorry if I shut down sometimes. It's part of the process, I think.

. . . .

Looking back at my diary entries, I can see I'm doing better. There may have been two days in my entire LIFE where I spent the day in bed because I was too sad to leave and both those days happened this past year. I'm finding that it's hard to write about the rough spots right away. Maybe there's truth to the saying that comedy = tragedy + time. Though there's nothing funny about this scenario, I'm grateful that distance continues to offer perspective.