Greetings, Readers ~

I am fervently working to finish my book, Just Keep Breathing. Here is an excerpt. It is not yet formally edited.

Be well,

Jana

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Copyright 2013, Jana Brock. All rights reserved. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited.

Just Keep Breathing (Excerpt)
Author: Jana Brock

Chapter 3: Too Much Pain

Unbeknownst to me, my son’s death would affect every area of my life from that day forward. I felt I was being forced through time. I did not want to go. The clock became my most hated adversary. It ticked away, mindlessly dragging me into a future I wanted no part of – inserting an undesired distance between his existence and mine.

Nothing felt right anymore. I did not want to talk to or listen to people outside my family. It was not safe for me to drive my vehicle. I did not go to work. I could not stand being in any public place. I stopped eating. I refused to answer most of my calls and text messages. I had to force myself to bathe and get dressed each day. Sleep was almost nonexistent and that made everything worse. Neither my daughter, nor I, wanted to hear background music or television, which was atypical of how we had always lived.

There were unintended consequences for my 16-year old daughter, too. Fear nearly immobilized me when she would leave my sight. I had raised her to be independent and responsible, but I knew she was not safe unless she was with me. If I kept her home, no one would ever show up at my door and give me news that brought with it too much pain. But she had to get back to high school and continue her studies. Though my brain knew this, I could not reason my way through it. I began experiencing panic attacks when she would leave, which was a new problem for me. The level of fear I had about her being away was emotionally crippling.

My brain was working 24 hours a day trying to put things back in their place, but the effort was exhausting and futile. The pieces that were the puzzle of my life would never fit together again. Life was something different now. Even in broad daylight, everything felt heavy and dark. I did not ask for this kind of different. I did not want it. I wanted things like they were before he died.

I begged constantly for God (or whoever was in charge of this dark planet) to turn back time to the night of his death. My son and I had been texting that evening, and he had promised to talk to me later. It is the only time I remember him not keeping his word.

I did not get to say goodbye.

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Copyright 2013, Jana Brock. All rights reserved. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited.