Nothing is the same. The sky darkens; it is not as blue as it was. Food does not taste like it used to. Music does not sound as sweet. Other people seem like aliens because you no longer live in the same world. Your own life is a weight around your neck. Somehow you make it through that first day. And then you make it through the next day. And the next. It doesn't stop. It goes too slow and it goes too fast. But somehow you keep going. And then one day you realize that though the sky isn't as blue as it used to be, it is still blue and it's ok. Food may not be the delight it once was, but it is no longer dust and ashes. Music sounds like a pale imitation but at least it no longer sounds like static. A bit of pleasure comes back. You start to feel those pleasures, small though they be, almost whether you want them or not. And you begin to connect to people again. No, it isn't the same. But it's ok. And sometimes it is better than ok. It will never be the same, but someday it will be another kind of good.

All of it that you want to share. All of that. We're here.

This. Completely this.

I've heard that voice in my own head, Connie. It's valid. But not the only option, by any means.

One of the things that got me through was having to call a friend each day when I woke up. It was tedious and it made me mad...no lie...but _having_ to do it gave me a thing to do. It didn't make me want to live, but I was willing to do it because my people asked it of me.

I wish there was some easier way. I wish someone could be there, just a presence, for you. Failing that, we're here.

What Beverly said.

What Cass said ( because I cannot figure out quoting on this device yet.)

Let people listen. If they aren't listening right and it's too hard and they rub you wrong, they aren't the right listeners,but don't stop. The right ones are out there and I'd like to think here.

One of the listener things I've learned that I've told mom when coping with her sister's loss of Frank is that she can't fix IT, but she can just be there to chase all the mental trails and head them off when they're heading to unproductive grounds- but nothing can fix.

It's been a weird place to know the ground better than my mom in dealing with loss, and while I wish I'd no need for it and certainly not the circumstances leading to it, I know it's actually helped my mom and my aunt. Life is just weird.

I was just thinking, "God, how much of this do you think they want to hear?"

We want to hear whatever you want to share.

I'm so sorry, sweetie.

We want to hear whatever you need to say, Connie.

You are a strong person, and you know he'd want you to stay strong.

One of the listener things I've learned that I've told mom when coping with her sister's loss of Frank is that she can't fix IT, but she can just be there to chase all the mental trails and head them off when they're heading to unproductive grounds- but nothing can fix.

THIS. She learned this because of me.

Sarameg is the reason why I made it through. She didn't need to be there physically, but she would have been had I asked. Her nightly phone calls were beacons in a very dark place, and often the only things I could hold on to. She didn't judge; she didn't preach; she didn't fix. She just was. And that's what I needed.

Share everything. Share nothing. It's not going to change the fact that we support you, and we're willing to take whatever you want to throw our way.

Beautifully said, MFNlaw.

I've been watching Castle episodes, refilling my week's drug caddies. Typical end of the week stuff. Feeling normal. Feeling the crouching dread. Feeling the "why bother."

I need to talk to someone professional. The distraction of Castle is good, but it wears off. It's been just over 24 hours, I know it's hard, but, dammit.

Connie, the Huntsman should have resources. Hopkins did for me. And don't be so hard on yourself. You would chastise me if I said the same. Go ahead and feel the "why bother." You're searching for a new normal. It's going to take time.