My stomach is in knots. My chest aches. I have a nearly uncontrollable urge to cry. I let go a little and tears stream silently down my cheeks. Soon the tears are unstoppable and I cannot help the sobs ripping from my throat.
This is too much to feel. The physical discomfort feels familiar. I have experienced this sensation, like my soul is twisting away from my body, trying to get away, to get a break from the emotional torment my brain is going through.
Then I remember where I have felt this pain before. It is the same way I felt when I learned of my Uncle’s death by suicide. How I felt when I thought I was going to lose Captain when I fessed up to a stupid mistake. The agony of learning about each of my 3 miscarriages.
This feeling is grief.
It feels like my dream has died. Is dying. Right here in front of my eyes, pieces of my dream are being snipped away. It no longer has the beauty of hope and promise. The allure of potential and possibility.
My dream is now a shell. A mish-mash of the few pieces I have refused to let go of. It is barebones and compromise. It is changes and restrictions. It is tiny whispering chances for YES in The Chamber of Echoing NOs we are struggling to escape from.
Tomorrow might be better.
But today, in grief, in despair, I am letting go of hope.