Akin to ripping a scab off of a large wound, I occasionally find pockets of woundedness. The unknown grief that I am unaware of. It causes me to make choices counterproductive to my chosen path. When I attempt to move forward, my little self rushes around trying to keep everything the same. Keep the memories, keep the world as I knew it without change as if it would keep us together. That struggle of the bigger me making change and the little me trying frantically to keep stuff the same causes anxiety, exhaustion.
There is a sense that I have moved several steps back. Its not. I have uncovered new layers of sorrow that take time to acknowledge. By exposing these hidden pains, I can do the emotional work necessary to bring resolution with time and effort.
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