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You know how storm clouds just kind of stroll in slowly sometimes? You look up at the sky and it seems a few shades darker and the clouds look like they have little shadows, but really they’re just filling up with rain. When the storm hits, it looks and feels like it built up and exploded in a second, but when you think about it, it took all damn day.

There are so many layers to the situation with MoC that it feels like I’m in the middle of a storm every single day – and there’s nothing I can do about it, except take cover. The problem with that is that there is no cover.

I’m angry. There. I said it. I don’t want to be angry. In fact, I thought I wasn’t angry for a long time because there is no one to be angry at. It’s not my mom’s fault. It’s not my fault. Maybe I was right. Maybe the anger just built up so slowly that I didn’t notice until the storm broke over my head. I’ve spent most of my time just fighting the wind and the rain and dodging the lightning – I had neither the time nor the energy to try to see where it began.

I’m afraid. There. I said that, too. I’m not supposed to be afraid. I’m a Capricorn, for God’s sake. I eat tin cans for breakfast and spit out nails. That’s what most people see when they look at me. A few look beyond that. Fewer still see how this situation has crushed me and can see what it takes for me just to get out of bed in the morning. Because I don’t talk about it. I can’t. I don’t want to. I want the walls I’ve built. I want the disguise. I need the bravado.

It’s not just about losing my mom. It’s not about losing the best friend I ever had. I said that once, tentatively. The response I got was that I was being melodramatic. So I shut up. But I am losing her. I’ve already lost her in some ways because she’s not the same person she was on September 30, 2010. My mother is the glue that holds what’s left of my family together. I don’t get along with my sisters very well. I don’t think they like me much. On every level but one, it doesn’t matter to me. But that one level, that very deepest part of me, mourns the loss of that connection to my past, that connection to where I began and who I used to be.

I don’t want to be alone. There. Now I’ve confessed everything. My biggest fear is that maybe I’m supposed to be alone. Maybe I’m one of those people who never finds the right person to fall in love with because I’m just not supposed to. Maybe that’s not my purpose in this life. I don’t know how to love someone without protecting myself. I thought I found it – I thought I found the person I could be with forever and be myself with forever. But it didn’t work and so I don’t know what to think about that. Was I kidding myself?

I’ve said this so many times that I’m beginning to bore myself with it, but … everything is changing. My life is shifting in ways I couldn’t anticipate and I’m afraid I’m fucking it up.

There’s really no good way to end a post like this. I debated writing it. I debated posting it at all, then I debated if I should post it here where certain people could read it (which leaves me incredibly vulnerable), or post it where only a handful would see it.

In the end, I chose to put it here. Because this is me. This is where I am. This is who I am. And I can honestly say that I am doing the best I can with what I have to work with.

This is all I can do.

And that’s enough. Isn’t it?