Just when your life is on track and you have everything you ever dreamed and wanted in your marriage, children and life, it hits: unstoppable, gut-wrenching feelings of doubt, fear and anxiety. The overwhelming wave of something you thought you’d kicked years ago slips back in like the beheaded roach that wanders your living room.
Dead memories arise and haunt, filling you with regret and pain that you didn’t even know you still held.
She’s gone, he’s dead, they’re here, why aren’t you happy? How can you possibly not live each day with an ignorantly blissful smile as your children grow and your husband holds you with every inch of his body enveloping yours in sheer love and devotion?
The past is buried, seven-feet under your naked toes where it belongs in its non-existent grave, trampled and covered in new growth; tomorrow’s heavenly wonder.
“You have to move on with the future” is everyone’s best medicine. The smooth, oblong Pill too large to swallow scrapes down, lodging itself in your windpipe, choke and it comes back up, tapping across the table, jagged, moist and porous.
The ones who would understand, don’t, and the ones who want to understand, can’t, and it’s a never ending dance of happiness and sorrow that twirl and tangle until one trips. Happiness trips. Sorrow stands.