One week ago I had a blood draw, and nerves.
One week ago I kept myself busy waiting for a phone call that I "had a feeling" would be good news.
One week ago I had hope.
I'd like to say each day is better, but so far all I can say is each day is different.
One day I'm overwhelmed with sadness, one day I'm ready to punch something in anger, one day I'm smiling at all the love coming from so many places (comments, texts, emails, calls, packages), and the next day I feel numb.
I've gotten better about seeming composed, and making small talk, but I want to scream I AM NOT OKAY!
I have let myself lean on people the way I normally wouldn't. I'm accepting any form of kindness that is extended - food, flowers, prayers - anything to help get me through this. I feel broken and defeated, and since I can't do it yet, I'm letting others piece me back together.
I wish the pain weren't so raw. I wish it didn't seem so big.
Thank God for Ben. We are standing together through this - holding hands and sometimes leaning away, to process on our own, but our fingers are linked almost as tightly as our hearts, and as soon as one of us starts to sway, the other is there to prop them up.
I know one day the hope will return, but that seems so far off. And for now, I'm letting that be okay.
I'm just putting one foot in front of the other and seeing where that takes me.