Went to hell, now I'm back.

The last couple of weeks threw me for a loop. This year when my son's birthday rolled around, I tried to force myself to deal with the pain and not allow myself to try to escape it. In my journey, I've learned that the emotions will be there, waiting to be dealt with. They don't go away as I wish they would. They, unlike me, seem to have an unlimited supply of patience and will gladly take up residence in some dark corner of my mind. Feeling the pain also comes with a sort of shame for not dealing with it for so long. Then, as if my heart didn't have enough to handle, I lost my best friend. Montana was my dog, through and through. She seemed to understand and accept all my mental health issues and was always there to greet me and offer me whatever comfort I was needing. She even inherited the need to be touching when sleeping and other various, weird quirks I have.

This was supposed to be a long post, but I'm learning to be quiet. So, there it is.