One Good Reason
I’m asking you to stay alive because the pain doesn’t get to write your ending.
I’m asking you to stay alive because the pain doesn’t get to write your ending.
It can be freeing to stop fighting your own humanness.
There are still days when it all feels like too much, when I’m self-conscious and hyper-aware of the story my body tells.
Anxiety that persists can lead to truly damaging physical ailments within the body, or it can make our brains feel like a boxing match of hypervigilance.
The victories are microscopic: answering a text, opening the curtains, taking a shower.
The lie went like this: If I don’t talk about it, it’ll go away.
My brother would have turned fifty this year, but the numbers don’t seem to matter much because grief doesn’t abide by the passage of time.
This message is for those who know this struggle intimately.
Your story doesn’t come to a close here. You lived. You went on.
Shaking, with tears streaming down my face, I whispered, “It’s never quiet.”
Each of us would say this to you person-to-person if we could.
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