And I hate it

There are moments, moments like this, like today, where there's a black cloud filling the day.  The sky outside may be clear and blue, the sun maybe shining, but here inside my head, over me, surrounding me is a big black cloud of fucking horrible funk.

And I hate it.

And I can't shake it.

I know it's a whole host of reasons, the arrival of Mothers Day which brings a whole host of feelings to me.  Throw in two nights of terrible insomnia, and the wonderful feelings of spending a matter of hours with someone followed by the drop and reality that it won't be for a while.   

And it all brings about a cacophony of emotions and feelings that feel like a stormy sea bashing at the sea defences. My defences.  I feel storm battered.

And I hate it.

And I want to turn the clock back to how I felt in the early hours of Thursday morning, the moment where I had an arm draped across my chest, a head sleeping on my shoulder, the weight of which weighed heavily but just brought about a sense of closeness in the darkness of the night that even when sleep eluded me I was filled with such a sweet and wonderful feeling.  And that seems so far away from where I am right now.

And I hate it.

I didn't sleep well last night. 

Neither did I the night before.  Instead the past two nights have been filled with a whole host of difficult feelings, painful reflections, I've had memories flood back in of the moment that people have literally drifted out of life, my witnessing their taking their last breath.  Haunted by the recollection of the time I almost drowned, I led there feeling just as I did at that moment, the way it felt as the water slowly filled my lungs as I saw life, my own life slowly ebb away.  I've had recollections of times in my life where it's been filled with such a sense of deep loss.

I feel haunted by the sense of loss, emptiness and sadness.  I feel like I'm drowning under a big black cloud.

And I hate it. 

And I'm trying to find the rays of light coming through the cloud and yet I am filled with a sense of foreboding, a sense of fear, as if something is going to go tearing through life and rip something else away from my heart. 

Right now, my heart feels vulnerable.  *I* feel vulnerable and quite alone. (A very rare thing for me to feel!)

And I hate it. 

Not the feeling of my own vulnerability, so much as that of my heart.  There is a beauty and a strength and a power in being vulnerable, of opening yourself up to someone and being vulnerable with them, to them, to the feelings you have.  But this heaviness, this darkness, this sense of emptiness that is enshrouding right now is quite overwhelming. 

And I hate it.

And my goodness, I'd give anything right now to transport me back to those early hours of Thursday morning, for that sense of warmth and closeness and just "being" in that moment. The closeness of skin, the closeness of feeling and watching him sleep, watching him breath, but just feeling. That moment.

But, the reality? Is that I'm as far away from that moment as I possibly could be.

Instead, I'm drifting into the darkness of a storm, the depths of funk that have come out of nowhere.  I feel as if I'm in a "drop", I feel disconnected in a way I don't want to be disconnected and yet, I can't disconnect from these horrible feelings.

And I fucking hate it!