I have at least fifty scraps of paper with thoughts scribbled on them.
On envelopes, receipts, post-its and grocery lists...I have dashed out my grief.
It happens as I drive...shop...and do laundry. But never is there enough time to put it together...to express it...or to make peace with my new self.
Life has gotten in the way of my writing...my grieving...and my healing.
My mind explodes with thoughts that are jumbled, mismatched and disturbing.
But I can't seem to get them out...or to make sense of my head.
I'm stuck.
My mind is spinning like the wheels of a car in a snow drift.
Moving and moving...
Faster and faster...
But getting nowhere.
I long for those days and moments when I could sit and express my emotions as the kids slept and I wrote the night away.
But life has gotten in the way.
No longer is there time to think...to write...or to accept my new existence.
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