Pieces...

I’ve had a little sugar bug following me around lately, patiently waiting to be eaten. He taunts me from time to time, nipping at my skin sending little rushes of pleasure right through me and intoxicating my thoughts. It’s like a blanket is being laid down over my grief, suppressing it more and more with every little bite the bug takes out of me. I’ve seen the sugar bugs before and more often than not, I do eventually give in and eat them. This one looks especially delicious which is a warning that it’s going to hurt especially when I bite him back.
My irrational, addict self says she’s hungry and wants the bug. My sane, rational half reminds me that every time I eat a sugar bug I feel worse after it’s digested and there is no bug left to follow me around, distracting me from life. What’s left is an uncomfortable, full, hurt belly and the life I didn’t want to deal with staring me in the face saying “I told you not to eat the bug.“ The irrational side though, knows another one will come around again and she’ll wait quietly for that while the rational side cleans up the mess from the previous consumption.
The bug bites me hard one last time before I turn around and snatch him up. Instead of squashing his ass, I pop him into my mouth. The irrational side of my head cheers, happy to have what she wanted and delighting in the delicious flavor of the bug. The rational side is drowning and can’t be heard over the flood of sugar and delirium that is pulsing through my body.
Once the bug is swallowed, it’s sharp contents scrape at my esophagus like shards of glass and the irrational side disappears, knowing what’s going to happen next. The bug will digest and there will be no more sugar for the rational side to drown in she’ll be cleaning the mess in my mind all on her own. The irrational side wants nothing to do with cleaning and everything to do with mess making. She retreats to her cozy chair in the living room of my brain and takes a nap.
Meanwhile, with no bug left buzzing around my head keeping me looking up and not straight ahead, the grief that I’ve managed to ignore sucker punches me hard in the stomach. Over and over it hits hard, stripping me of skin, angry at me for eating the bug, thinking I could forget it’s presence.
Once again, I feel raw, wide open and bare. My limbs are filled with lead, and the tears come in uncontrollable waves. Memories float in and out of my head and it’s almost as if I can touch Rob, feel his skin, his hair and hear his voice. How stupid of me to think that that an extra special delicious sugar bug could replace that, or even mask that feeling.
I’m now left standing here asking “now what?” Where do I go from here? I don’t know. I’m afraid of the next little bug that will come along. It’s inevitable. They always come and provide the most wonderful distraction until I give in and eat them and I’m back to where I started, but a little stronger than I was before. My mind is repairing itself faster after each consumption and I’m able to move forward longer and faster in between bugs.
Until then, it’s me, my grief and my rational side cleaning up the mess and taking everything one step at a time…