I feel it.
I feel all of it.
That’s something I learned from my therapist.
I learned how to feel it.
How to feel the bad, the unknown, the uncomfortable.
Feel it. Let it live. Let it die. Let it go.
Right now, the bad is alive.
It will be alive longer than I want it to be.
But if I don’t feel it.
If I don’t let myself accept Luther’s words, then I’ll never move on.
Tears still trail down from the corners of my eyes into my hairline. But they’re falling slower.
I fill my lungs all the way.
And I hold my breath.
Then I let it out.
Another breath. Another exhale.
On the next breath, it hits me again. The hurt.
And I let it live.
I let the hurt fill my chest, same as the oxygen.
Because the pain is true. The pain is as alive as I am.
But it won’t beat me.
Won’t defeat me.
It will just hurt me.
Chapter 96
Luther
The street signblurs before me.
I squeeze the steering wheel tighter.
I didn’t cry when my wife cheated on me.
I didn’t cry during our divorce.
I don’t remember the last time I cried from sadness.
But my throat aches.
