Uncomfortably Stretched

Writing here has become daunting to me in my month-long absence from it, yet it's also measured how time can seem to encompass so much because a great deal has happened. If I had to describe my feelings, I'd say I feel as if I've been beaten up, pummeled. If my mirror image could reflect my feelings, it would be stretched, distorted, smeared across the glass.

Part of this feeling is because my feet have been in the air (along with the rest of me, of course), flying (or driving) all over the place, visiting family, friends, and former haunts, some places I was glad to have left behind.

And it's partly because of news I received last night of a former colleague who killed herself Sunday, the day I was traveling home. Over the course of my work-life, she is the second person I worked with who killed herself, and I'm just so saddened.