I can feel it.  Etching away at my emotional shields, chipping at the edges and threatening to break loose.  I’ve had to stop several times today and just lean against the counter or wall, forcing everything to even out and willing myself to not loose control.

Someone in my writing class had warned me that they had been in the role of the strong one, that they had tried to hold fast against the storm and ended up crying uncontrollably in the corner of their office seven months later — I’m starting to see this as a good possibility for what is going to happen to me.  I’m determined to hold fast, though, to not break against the ragged edges I can see.  As long as I need to be able to respond to any call from dad within a moment’s notice, I can’t let things break.  The more I think about tomorrow and the next day and next week… the harder it gets.  The more I see things that make me think about you, things you would love to see – like my little miniature rose bush
leafing out once again, or the small figurine I am currently working on – the harder it is for me to hold things together.

I had a chance to go pick cranberries earlier this evening, but decided not to.  I wanted to, I really did, but I was uneasy about getting out alone in the woods out behind the house and loosing control of the tight hold I have on my emotions.