Here We Go Again
There’s a certain quality to the pain of shattered dreams.
First, there’s the angst. That suffocating feeling from the vice grip around your throat. The one that threatens to take your oxygen for good.
There’s also the guilt. Who are you to feel devastated about a broken dream when there are people fighting for their lives and going through horrendous ordeals?
And then, one of the most damaging and wonderful parts, the hope.
Because there’s always something else to be done… or at least you think there is.
Today my dream was crushed once again, and it was more heartwrenching than I thought it would be.
One would think that it gets easier, by the third time you should be numb, right?
But I really thought this one would be it. Everything was ready, on point, beyond perfect.
And yet, the unthinkable happened. That thing I’d refused to even consider, not putting bad things into the universe as my husband would say.
But the bad things caught up to us anyway.
And of course, I hold onto the hope because it isn’t over yet. I grab it, tie myself to it, surrender my soul to whatever it can give me.
Because I’d never thought of myself as someone stubborn. And yet, the punches from our dearest friend life have shown me that bulls got nothing on me.
Here. We. Go. Again.
