All these things that I've done...

The morning I woke, after the last day.

The day after, the noise.

The day after, the last time I saw him.

The day after, the last day, of being well in the knowledge of my ability.

There was silence.

Deafening silence.

Although when I cast a glance over to the glass jar of the last 6 months, all the chaos, all the joy, all the pain, there was a slight muffle from everyone who was still trapped in there. In that glass jar. Or so it felt.

It was after the initial silence that the tidal waves began to sweep over and over, seemingly relentless. The relief came first. The relief of not having to move. Not having to force myself out of bed. To scramble to get Mali to daycare, having to swim upstream against the peak hour of the city, reminding myself to breath. And that was on a good day.

Then there was the numbness and the associated plea to stay within the dull ache of nothing as I knew what would come next. The re-living of it all. The highs, just as painful as the lows, because they were no longer there. Just a thing of the past now, an 'accident' almost. Taken just as quickly as they had arrived. Some would say easy come, easy go. But nothing about the ferociousness of navigating the last 6 months had been easy.

The shame and embarrassment of being let down and of feeling as though I had let everyone down in turn. I had jumped ship like never before, the deck was on fire and I hurled myself into the depths of the murky water.

I'm currently adrift at sea and, while peaceful, it's mostly concerning, as I am unable to see land in sight.