She asked me what was I throwing up… I understood the metaphor but had no answer. We talked some more.
I thought about something I had read that week. Alone and by ourselves, no one to fight with so who do we fight with? We fight with our self and for many of us, we tear ourselves to shreds. I had been alone that whole weekend; on my own accord. Nick had left for his dad’s that Friday so by nightfall I was left to my own demise.
By Saturday morning I was not physically well. From headache, migraine, whatever; by Saturday night fall I was throwing up the only morsels of the day to the point I had dry heaves by the time I laid my head on the pillow. When I awoke Sunday morning, again I was not well to present myself to the world. I had solace in the refuge of my home, my place of peace and solitude… not only for Sunday but what carried over into Monday as well. Monday afternoon brought a new sort of despair that is only explainable to one in grief, their closest support and those with knowledge of grief.
So again, at the end of my sharing my weekend, again she asked, what were you throwing up? I was throwing up guilt I said. She said, “Yes, you were.” #muchlovetosam