“Some old wounds never truly heal, and bleed again at the slightest word.” ― George R.R. Martin, A Game of Thrones

It’s funny the things that can trigger memories and bring them to the fore.

A song. A word. An action.

Sometimes the memories are incredible. My friends and I on the beach. Sun glinting in my eyes, the smell of freshwater, the laughing, the ability to just be.

Sometimes the memories are just that – memories. A smell, a sense of déjà vu. A heartbeat skipped in a moment, breath caught up in the wind.

Sometimes, though, sometimes the memories are dark. Lost loved ones – buried six feet under, never to be seen in this life again. Harsh words. Regrets of actions not taken. An ache in the chest so deep it bears witness to the emptiness that lies within. It can be put aside, forced to lay dormant until that moment – a song comes on the radio, sudden intake of breath, burning in the eyes, memories of loss, hurt, anguish.

Why do the hurtful ones seem the strongest? What is it about anguish?

I sit here typing, Hurt on repeat. It is trapped in a loop, just as I am. I missed a step somewhere along the way. I’ve had others tell me that I need to be in the moment. I need to move on. Mindfulness, they say, is the way to let go of that ache, that stress, that hurt.

But how? How does one forget and move on? Maybe forget is the wrong word, but as awful as my short term memory is, my long term memory is strong, sometimes too strong…

I’ve let myself down. I really don’t know what I’ve become or who I am anymore.  I put on a good show, I act like I know. But I don’t, and I can’t start over, I can’t keep myself from falling away. Everything feels surreal, and yet so incredibly, solidly real.

Johnny Cash – Hurt