Arlow cries when I cry. I learned that tonight. A tear or two and he’ll just lick my face, but audible sobbing and he joins right in.
Sometimes the only way to breathe is to separate yourself from everything–the things you love, the pain that’s sitting heavy on your chest, the swirl of activity in your brain demanding you find a solution for all that hurts–and remember what is True.
Sometimes what hurts us is true too, but there is something Truer.
And that is how I found myself hysterically sobbing in the shower tonight. I scream-cried prayers to the Father who promises to never, ever leave my side. And then I raised my hands and let the shower water hit my face and I said over and over again: “You are good, You are good, You are good.”
Over all that hurts and scares me, I will speak that: “You are good, You are good, You are good.” Because it’s true and it helps me breathe.
I called my therapist tonight, sobbing incoherently: “I want my mommmmm.”
“When our bodies are too broken, we might end up in a coma, giving our bodies a chance to recover,” I also said, later on, via text message, where my sobbing wouldn’t distort what I was trying to say. “I wish the same was true with a broken heart.”
I want my mom.
God is good.
I don’t know if I’ll ever stop crying. …Coma from dehydration? Is that a thing?