For me, confession isn’t about sharing some deep dark secret as a means of making myself feel better for some wrong I’ve committed. I think confession is an opportunity to just say what’s so. In so doing, I’m more connected to my life without all of my stories and crazy-making.

So I confess: I miss Aaron. I miss him so much that I can’t sleep. I wonder whether or not he thinks about me. I wonder if he’s moved on. I wonder if he remembers our two years together. I wonder if he still believes that there’s a future for us. I wonder if he still believes that I have a place in his life right here, right now.

I confess: I’m angry at him. I wanted him to fight for Us, even though we were already both challenged in attempting to maintain what kind of communication we were maintaining when he first moved to Glasgow, let alone a long-distance relationship. And in not fighting for Us, my mind went to the next “logical” place: I wasn’t worth fighting for. I wasn’t worthy enough, … which therefore, reinforces “the story of my life.”

I confess: I struggle day to day. I want to be able to be above these feelings that continue to be the mill stone around my neck. I want to be happy. I want to sincerely remember that there is one Life, one Spirit, one Love, and as long as I remember that, everything will work out the way it works out.

I confess: I don’t know how to love past the loss. I don’t know how to love through to the other side.

I confess: I’m just trying to keep going. …