It has been such a very long time. For good reason, why would I keep a record of events I would prefer not to recall. Still, there comes a point where you can't shunt the healing process aside any longer. Although I have been learning in recent weeks that grief and healing aren't like travelling through a dark tunnel until you reach daylight at the other end. There is nothing linear about it. I have periods when I congratulate myself on being a survivor and marvel at my ability to remain so open and vulnerable to life and all the suffering and ecstasy it entails. I still giggle and bubble and wonder at the strangers smiling at me as I walk down the street until I realise I was the one smiling first. I have sat across the table from a mystical stranger and cried when she told me that I am not capable of hate, because, despite all of lifes disappointments, I know she's right.

In the last couple of days I've had a temperature over 40 degrees that left me so weak I couldn't get out of bed. I haven't been sick like that since I was a little girl. My hair and pillow were soaking wet. Every part of me ached like I'd been violently beaten. The only person I wanted or needed to bring me flat lemonade with a straw and cool facecloths is never going to be there for me again. The person that I turned to instead is someone I really need to stop turning to.

The most important discovery I have made in the last couple of weeks is that I am exactly where I am meant to be right now. For now, that will have to be enough.