I have hated haunted houses ever since I visited one with my girl scout troop when I was about twelve years old. Deliberatly walking down dark corridors so that someone could jump out at you and say BOO...bumping into walls and other nonmovable objects...feeling trapped and terrified. Since then, I have consciously chosen to avoid any and all situations where I would feel that small and frightened.
But that is how this feels.
I realize now that I only got a taste of it when Alex died. I was trapped, but there was hope. It hurt like hell, but there was a direction to go...a path to take toward healing and "trying again." I could throw open the windows on the fun house and let in SOME light.
But now that Travis is gone, it's like I'm standing in a dark corridor, with walls all around me, and spooky goblins lurking about...just waiting to jump out and terrorize me. The windows are nailed shut and I can't even bring in the light anymore. There is nowhere to turn toward healing.
It feels like I'm slowly suffocating. Staring at a wall in the darkness. I KNOW there is an exit somewhere. There has to be. I can't be locked in here forever. Can I?