Does it make me the worst person ever if I am relieved and thankful that I am back from the place where sadness lives? (A literal location, not psychological or emotional.) Or the second worst person?
Because I am relieved. It’s incredibly hard to be there. I feel free the minute the plane takes off. I read. I eat. I pet my dog. I get excited about plans for the upcoming week. I daydream about the future.
If you’ve never been in this position, maybe it seems callous and harsh. But it doesn’t feel that way. It feels like…freedom. It doesn’t mean I’m not sad. I’m sad all the damn time. I wake up sad. I go to bed sad. I get sad suddenly for no reason in a room full of my friends. But sometimes I need to get away from the sadness because otherwise I will give in to it and I’ll never be able to survive that.
Day 89 – Freedom
A Year to Grieve 