I don't want to feel anything. I want to curl up and let my senses, physical and emotional, become stagnant, dumbed down, inoperable. I would hope that this weekend away would wake me up, bring me back to life. Instead, I feel so exhausted physically, psychologically, spiritually, and emotionally that I really don't want to function. I've heard people talk about the depression stage of grief as a desire to not want to go on living. I feel like that's the wall I just hit. I have so many good things in life, too many to name or mention. But at the end of the day, she's not there, at least not in a tangible sense. I've been fighting to remember her voice again, or her touch. No one hugged me like she did. No one's lap bore the weight of so many of my tears. No one ever heard so many of my verbalized prayers for healing, for redemption, for restoration.
I feel more broken than ever, waiting for the ball to drop, for the next big shock. But even more so, I feel dried up, distant from the Creator, detached from the Wellspring. Here I am, about to enter my second year of seminary, to go back into the community that's been a major part in my most recent transformations, and I just want to let go of it all. Most terrifying is the thought of letting go of my relationship, of the one I love who loves me in return, more than anyone ever has. I just feel like I'm having to rely on the people on the other end of the string to maintain the connections. I don't have the strength, the will, the energy, or even the intentionality. I know the Creator can hold onto her relationship with me just fine. I just worry about the rest of the relationships. I don't know how much longer this numbness will continue, but I know if it's too terribly long, I won't be able to hold on.