Babes, I have tried to rationalize this. I have tried to make it ok. I haven't wanted to feel sorry for myself. To be a victim or be weak. But the truth is I am fucking mad. I am sad and hurt and really under all the ways I can talk around it, I do feel sorry for myself.

I haven't allowed myself to go there but I can feel it right under the surface. Until now I haven’t noticed that I was forcing it away, but the other day Shauna said, stop fighting this. I resented that, how else am I supposed to be? I really have been trying to go through this as consciously as possible, to feel it as it comes, no numbing, no mediation, no distraction or destructive behaviors. But then over the last few days I have noticed; I am fighting, I have been fighting so hard. I am fighting the weakness, the fragility, you know my favourite line, I got this. Well babes, I don’t got this.

Today I was at Chapters, getting a thank you card for Norbert, they finally finished the kitchen and it looks lovely, you’d be stoked. It is all complete, and yet has never felt less settled. Anyways, as I walked the card aisles I couldn’t ignore it, the Valentine's day cards, the wedding cards, the anniversary cards, the new baby cards… All  our 'supposed to bes'. But now,  none for me.

I have tried to pretend it is ok that I didn't get our wedding. But as I stood there amidst the beautiful wedding cards I felt it wave over me. I am so mad. Why, why didn't I get to marry the man of my dreams? Why can't I have a family with you? I have tried so hard to not feel sorry for myself but the truth is I am sorry, I feel ripped off and I know it is unbecoming of me, but denying the existence of of my self pity isn’t helping.

I had worked hard to be who I was, we worked hard to be who we were. We got through all the shit and I deserved a life with you. I deserve the chance to fuck it up myself, or the chance to rock it. I deserve the chance to hate you, to fall out of love, to choose another way, why don't I get the luxury of a divorce. Or the chance to be the most amazing wife, to be with you into old age, to put it all into practice. Why don't I get to dance the dance with you? Instead I had you ripped from me. And while I justify it and say it is precious to have had a love like we did, I am angry that I don't get to live it out. To be the family we thought we would be ‘forever’.

I know I can't change it and so have tried to make sense of it, but all the rationalizing doesn't soften how bad it hurts. It just masks it, I can function well, I can keep it all together and make it look good but it is eating at me. And as I strolled the aisles of Chapters, looking for a thank you card but mostly avoiding going home I was overcome with rage. The problem is, who am I going to be mad at. I'm not mad at you, and unlike a lover scorned there is no scapegoat. So I am stuck with this crazy anger and no where to direct it.

I have heard that some people are having a hard time with my process. They want me to be ‘better’. Laughable really, I am so far from that, and that must make them uncomfortable. They so badly want me to be OK. I know that my pain scares them. We didn't bring this on, we didn't provoke it, no one saw it coming. So they know, 'if it can happen to her it could happen to me'. And then to see how fucking awful the aftermath is scares them. From happy accomplished little yoga girl to this… Jesus. I can see why they don’t like the reality of it. It is confronting. They would rather hear about it in years, when I have it all wrapped up pretty. When I can show them, O it was brutal but look at how happy I am now… Maybe, maybe not, and it is in this dark unknown that people squirm.

Babes, it is possible I am just barely scratching the surface of what has happened to me. What I have lost, and how I feel about it. I think I am only just starting to feel the depth. I am smart, a trait you both admired and from time-to-time loathed, so I can intellectualize this like no one else, I can talk about it, around it, of it. But I see that I am not going to get away with thinking my way through this. I m going to have to feel the weakness, acknowledge that I am far more fragile than I care to admit, and maybe even fall apart.