Day 416


The weight of widowhood is vast and ever expansive.

Much like my own evolution.

I was speaking with a friend tonight about purgatory.

How the very root of the word is to purge.

What is it that I am purging?

My sadness?

My semblance of self?

My fear?

My grief?

My very essence?

They say that you have to completely demolish to have area to create.

I have been lost for so long I don’t believe I would know if and when I did finally find what I am looking for.

I feel like I am always shedding a skin over and over.

Reinventing myself.

Like Madonna or T. Swizzle.

How many times can I continue this process before I become too tired?

I wonder often what normal people think about.

Then again what is normal?

I have yet to meet one “normal” person.

I mean I have met many people who seem normal until you get to know them.

Finding out that we each have our own path to endure is comforting.

Still I feel the pressure of society urging us all to stay within our chosen box.

Do not detour!

Why do I feel such guilt being exactly who I am.

My authentic self.

Whether it’s a mess or not, I do not turn from it.

And yet I do as I sit paralyze by judgment.

Paralyzed by fear.

That I’ll never belong.

I’ll never find peace.

That my journey will be for nothing.

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