Entry 03

September, 2018, about a year after Irma. 

An open letter to my friends who know that I always try to speak from my heart and who are not afraid to listen. 

You know me. I am not a suicide and though sometimes my heart feels like one and those words come out of my mouth, you know that I am in no danger, only in heartfelt conflict in that moment.

Other moments I am celebratory and my heart is full of joy and you don’t compare those moments of down and up one to another and wonder if I am unbalanced. You watch me on the high wire and don’t judge my sanity.

Thank you for the times when you question out loud my competence.

I have a weight on my heart that I want to share with you tonight. I am fatigued in heart and mind by the last many months of work recovering from some hard hits last September. What scares me now is the chance it could happen again this fall. My mind is at a total loss of comprehension and there is no strength in my heart to imagine. 

I know the odds are with us. It’s my heart that is afraid. Somehow my courage is seriously compromised. I don’t know how much strength is left to me. I need to say this out loud so it is not chewing on my heart, unnamed in a private darkness.

I don’t need or want anything from you now my friends except to know that you hear me in this unusual and extraordinary fear. I already know I am irrational in this. I blame my heart but think my mind may have undermined my heart’s strength. If you write, please don’t try to rationalize with me. Give me your heart’s truest knowledge.