There are days I feel like a shadow of myself; clearly marked boundaries of before and after. I notice a detached, third person sort of way of identifying myself in my thoughts, in a Chris Keller sort of way.
My new operating system isn't so new anymore, although to be fair to myself, I don't think I really understood its mechanics until recently. Not in any sort of enlightened way, more like,
I've learned that trying to control anything is really an effort in futility...
and in my mind, that's something, because I've been fighting that notion for a long time.
Lately I notice that my sister's passing isn't a kick in my gut. It's not the first thing I blurt out to assuage what may come from my mouth; I've learned to control my impulses and to filter my tongue once again. There's a deeper sadness, a longing for what is no longer. There are happy memories too, the visual memories that assaulted me in the wee hours of the morning have dissipated and I've learned how to get on without her in my world. I hate that it was sink or swim, but that's the only option. You accept what is, or you can't go on. That choice is the last bit of control you can garner and it was my sounding board to accepting that this life is beautiful and fucked up and that I can only do the best that I can every day. That's the gift, that ability to wake up and start fresh again.
