The grief and depression have been all-consuming lately. I would howl if I could. When I watched Midsommar last year, I wrote:
The endless scream of grief—inside me and inside Dani. I wish I could scream and never stop. I wish I could scream until I am no more.
That was only a few months after my mother's death. Now, I am approaching one year without her. What a horror this is. Pure agony. Nothing alleviates it.
The nights bring terror. Nightmares about her. Flashbacks to the trauma of watching her die from cancer. I writhe. I thrash. Alone in bed, aching and crying and gasping for air. Occasionally, I take a selfie just to make sure I am still here, that all this is real, that I'm not dissolving into nothing.