It is amazing how far humans can be pushed.

By amazing I really mean horrifying that people can endure so much, and still be expected to take more. Life is so cruel that people are expected to keep on moving, and keep breathing, when it feels as though the weight of the world is crushing their breath out of them every minute of every day.

When grief is so painful that you emit sounds you didn’t know existed.

When you long for someone to hold you whilst you cry, so much that you lose all sense of the STRONG INDEPENDENT WOMAN you are.

I have crashed. Mentally. Emotionally. I am exhausted at being alone. Being everything to everyone, and feeling like I am drowning.

I hate leaving Tom in the hospital, the twice a week I get to see him. Saying ‘Goodbye’ I am filled with dread that I won’t ever see him again. I am haunted by the last time I said Goodbye to Jason, not knowing that it would be the very last time. I find myself driving down the motorway (no faster than 70MPH, obviously) and I start crying out of nowhere, at the memory of the last hug with Jason. Terrified that history will repeat. I know that Tom is perfectly well looked after, and that the situations are in no way similar, but the fear is sometimes overwhelming.

I spend every morning with my stomach in knots waiting for a text to say he is awake. In reality, the text tells me he is alive.

I wake in the night, panicked that something has happened. Just like the months after Jason’s death, I am startled awake, with such a feeling of dread. It feels like a recurring nightmare.

It’s hard to function when your mind is in overdrive. Constantly reassuring yourself that everything will be ok.

I wish I could run away from my mind sometimes, and enjoy life for what it is, instead of always feeling on edge. Terrified.

Even this non-hugger could do with some hugs right now.

This too shall pass. I hope.

(I pulled into a car park on the way home from the hospital so I could have some time to think. Not an inspirational view, granted!)