oh help

My heart is rent-like the veil, split down the middle-in pieces-passing away. Will I see God now? Will this usher me in at last to the place that I've looked for my whole life-that holy of holies. Is this when I'm gonna get it-that Jesus died for this rent heart. I've been told I have a new life ahead of me. Now that Steve's really gone, it will be better. I don't believe it yet. I can't see it. I can't see anything. I'm about as lost as a soul could be. I miss him so much and I don't want to believe that he's not coming back, that he won't love me anymore, that I'm alone now. I don't know how to live life without him anymore.

Yes, the word idolatry comes to mind. He was a god I could see and feel and touch. He was there when I was sad, and sick, and crazy-when I didn't know what to do. He was there. He would fix it. He held me,and stroked my hair, and told me everything was gonna be okay. He called me "baby girl". He told me I was beautiful, that I made him want to be a better man. He took care of me.He defended me. I had moments of melting into trust and security like I had never known. What did I have to give in return? My life, my soul, my very self and I paid it too. Anything to have the smallest drop of love and affection. I know it wasn't real love, on his part or mine. I think I always knew, but I was good at pretending and wishing. It was selfish and desperate-a twisted give and take.

And I am alone. I have no friends here really, not friends that I could lean on. No family, no one who isn't paid to be in my life. Alyson comes to see me. She's helping me live the days. She steadies me when I don't want to live or breathe another breath. I know she cares. She is a godsend, but I can't get too attached, because ultimately, she's an illusion. A friend who can't really be my friend. I was watching a show with Seth the other night about a woman who raises these little orphaned kangaroos. She couldn't let the little ones become to attached because they were to be released back into the wild when they were ready. This is my terror-that I can't be attached to these dear people who have been so good to me, who have saved my life in a way because I'm going to have to be released back into the wild of this terrifying world and make my way on my own. I don't know how to stand on my own. I've always had someone taking care of me, helping me, rescuing me, making the way easier. I'm so afraid and lost and deeply, deeply ashamed of my inadequacy. It is a wound that never healed properly, that wasn't attended to, that has left me defective, crippled, an oddity-a grown woman who can't take care of herself or her children. A grown woman who still needs mothering. I don't feel 42, I feel 8 and so small. I am bereft, without comfort and inconsolable. Abandoned.Alone. I could call out,please, please don't leave me. I could beg and plead and still there will be no one. No one. Little children should not be left alone to their grief. I may be 42, but there is a little child in me who is feeling the loss of her only hope and comfort in life all over again, actually, finally feeling it for the first time. It takes me over, wave after wave until I can't breathe. Please don't leave me here-please let me go with you. Where are you? Oh my God, I despise my weakness and need. How does a person go out into the world without first knowing the comfort and security of being loved? It's magnetic, a pull to find something that isn't there, that never will be there, that can never be there.
I know, I know, God is the only one who can heal a thing like that. Right? Well, I can't find God. ANYWHERE. This is the thing I don't understand. Years of crying alone, calling out with the truest heart I could muster-where are you? What have I done that you can't come to me? I'll be good. Please. I'm sorry God. I need you.