I really feel like I am drowning. I’m trying not to feel that way, but I’m not overcoming that feeling just yet. It seems overly dramatic, but my mind is stuck in That Day at That Time. I can’t get away from it, and part of me doesn’t want to. Part of me wants to stay in the world where my child belonged. She isn’t part of this world, now, and I’m not sure I’m ready to be part of it yet, either. I’m not sure I ever will be. My best friend and I keep talking about the what, if anything, will be on the other side of this. There have just been too many losses, and most of them were far too young to die. The effect is cumulative, and now I’ve found myself falling into a sort of all-consuming darkness. I apologise to those affected by it. This non-self is living, but it’s empty. We all hope it will refill somehow, but none of us are sure when or if. It’s terrifying and strange. It’s much too big for me to take on. I’m trying to live around it– school and work move on regardless– but I feel as though I am physically being pulled down in to this abyss. None of us, including the Inner Self Helpers, are sure we’ll come out of it. The loss itself is horrendous, but on top of the other losses, it has just become too much.