I was told yesterday that I was brave, that I'd handled losing a long-term relationship, a job, a home, a car, and many friends without becoming bitter. I started to choke up. It made me take a moment to take stock of what really happened.
In many ways, it feels like loss is the predominant feature of my life. Sometimes I caused it and sometimes it was just the way the universe worked out. The thing I've never lost is this sack of bones I continue to drag around, as well as this shred of identity that fits within that sack of bones. I guess there's some sort of soul involved. There's something that persists through everything.
There is a lot of sadness in me. It's said that time heals things, but as time passes, it feels like I'm growing further and further from being able to identify with and play the game of life. The chasm seems to be growing wider.