Reliving the Past

I spent the latter part of the evening, from around 10 p.m. to 1 a.m.going through the blog looking for the grief posts. I've made it through the December 2009. . . again.

It is time consuming because I have to read every post to see if it is something that pertains to what was going on with me. The experience is very odd. I don't know exactly what I feel re-reading many of them. The dark and heavily emotional posts are difficult because those images are still real. I do not know how I survived those nights lying in the dark hallway, or sitting in that dark house surrounded by memories that had become enemies. I remember the darkness so very clearly. It was tangible. Sometimes it seeps out again.

The memories are still horrible and I dare not dwell too long on them. Last night I read two posts where I acknowledged I was angry. I was angry all over again but it was tempered by an understanding of the anger. People failed me. I've become more accepting of failure because of that. It doesn't hurt less.

It is the nearly normal posts that surprise me. They are normal in that I seemed to step out of the darkness for a moment. Some of these made me angry. How could I be that way when two days before I was nearly catatonic! Then I remembered that every minute of every day I lived on the edge. I clung to anything normal I could find. I was posting a lot, anything and everything that captured my mind for even a minute. That is why those posts sound so silly now. That was when I could find some relief from the barrage of memories and press down the terrible pain that was always just below the surface, seething. It is still there, buried deeper, like a slumbering volcano. They say that at some point it will go dormant.

I'll begin work on the second year this weekend. I really have no idea where to go with this. It is a glimpse of the madness that stands silently behind the closed doors or our minds, waiting for something to flip the latch and set it free.