There are certain times every year I can’t help but be depressed. During the day, I do a decent job of hiding it. But in the wee hours of the morning, like now, I can’t pretend. I have no one to pretend for. This is one of those times.
Mother’s Day is a day I dread every year. I go through the entire grief cycle in the month that leads up to it. I feel everything anew. Anger, sorrow, regret. They take turns and come in waves, leaving my heart battered, bruised, exposed.
Tonight is sorrow. Tonight is loneliness. Tonight is really tomorrow morning and in a few hours, the sun will rise. I will most likely be getting ready for work when it does. I will be tired and worn. I will be cried out by that time.
Eventually, joy will come. I know this. It always does.
I just have to be patient.
❤ Like Baby Bear Soup