"Man has places in his heart which do know yet exist, and into them enters suffering in order that they may have existence." - Leon Bloy
It must be coming on February. For the last three farking February's, the beast has come to call on me.
Three years ago, we almost lost a family member (it was touch-and-go and a long, scary recovery). We were so obsessed with his care that we didn't notice that another was slowly and quietly dying. It's the one's you don't see coming that take your teeth out. This self portrait was taken when we buried him.
And now another round of fresh hell, and the predictable loss of at least ten pounds which I cannot afford to drop. Welcome to the winter of my discontent.
I used to be far more discreet about these things, and while I will never betray a confidence (you cannot beat it out of me nor scare it out of me) I have the right to express my misery as well as joy. I'm sure there are others in the same place, too. And maybe they will find some fine thread of comfort in this that they aren't alone.