Journal Entry 9.5.23

It is the little losses that break you. Death. Divorce. Those are the easy ones. The loss of history. The loss of hope. The loss of a future that allows for hope. Those are the little cuts that ultimately cause exsanguination. The loss of routines, the loss of the familiar, the loss of identity that comes from how you chose to live your life. The grief I struggle with is that at the age of 57, my 27-year old son has a leg up on me. He doesn’t have to empty box after box of history and abuse in order to start his life. He doesn’t have to apologize for choices he has made before he is allowed to move forward. He is not shamed and blamed for the things that have happened to him. He and I are both starting our lives at the same time, but he is not yoked to the burden of shame and loss and grief. He gets a free pass as he starts his life.