I am not well today. I've been keeping myself busy so I wouldn't slow down enough to feel. I'm not busy enough today I guess, because I'm taking a nose-dive into despair. Distractions only prolong the agony.
There's a mega-celebration tonight for my dear friend Roshimomma. I've spent the last three weeks trying to put into words just how much she means to me. Some things are just too deep for words, you know? She penetrates my walls with her compassion - her insightful wisdom - her vibrant spirit - and her own life experiences. I honor all that she is. I look to her as a parental figure, I cradle her like a child and I love & laugh with her like a sister.
We don't see each other every day - sometimes we go weeks. But when we do, there's a knowing - an understanding. She knows exactly what's going on in my life because she's my only non-online-friend who has read my journal regularly - from day one. She hears me. She supports me. She gets me.
Today is all about her. Half a century on this planet, in this skin, is a milestone. There's a lot to celebrate and reflect upon. I've been looking forward to celebrating this moment for her since last year.
Yet, this morning I woke up in a panic attack. I don't know how I'm going to get myself to her gathering. So much emotion. So much celebration. So much love. It's just so much. My friends insist they will "take care of me" no matter what mood I'm in. That's what we all say. That's what we do for each other. But that's not how I want to spend this evening.