It seems like every time I get through one big milestone, another is staring me in the face.

We made it through the holidays. Barely.

Now I'm sitting here, with my beautiful daughter shoving ravioli all over her face, and then I realize -- at this time last year, we were so blissful. But twenty days later, we found out that "something" was wrong.

January 25th.

I'm not writing very much here right now. It's all very dark, and I'm trying to avoid posting that stuff. But I'm trying to work through it. While I've been doing this, I feel like I've realized something may be wrong with me. I'm always alone. Not physically. I feel like I talk a lot, but, while I may make friends.. I don't feel like I have any. I don't feel connected to anyone. I don't think I really ever have. I feel like I've been so independent for so long -- I think I'm a little screwed up. I feel like I have a million acquaintances, but no friends. If you consider myself your friend, please don't be insulted by that statement. I value everyone close to me. But. I don't know if my heart is operating the way it should be. I feel like everyone is just passing through. I don't want to use the word disposable for anyone -- except for maybe myself.

Maybe that's normal for this stage of grief. Maybe I'm just cycling through it.