The Pain Doesn’t Vanish: The Ghost at 2AM.

The pain doesn’t simply go away.
Samantha did leave.
After the loss of her child, she relocated to paradise.
Beaches, sun, and waves.
But she returned a few years later, and settled back into the city.
“There are people committing suicide in paradise. They get divorced there, and die of cancer.”
Wherever you move, the ghost who haunts you travels with you.

I’ve had my share of the “fresh start” gurus.
Some of those gurus lurk in the adjacent cubicle, dispensing corporate air-freshener.
Chase the goals, grind, hustle, find purpose. And if it bombs…
“All one needs to do is get away, clean the slate and the world will be a bright shiny oyster again.”

Late stage trauma is not that ghost who drags chains around the house, knocking down vases and impaling the cat with a sharp bread knife.
No, it brushes against your cheek at 2AM.
Maybe that’s when you wake up, get out of bed, make tea.
Occasionally I go outside, let the dog run, patrol quickly, and search the perimeter for stray cats.
There’s something surreal about being the only waking being at that time.
But maybe I’m not. I do see other lights.

Whatever one endured, there’s no escaping it. Time doesn’t heal. Time is only the container that lets you move forward.
With time the ordeals define you less, but they stay a part of who you have become.

When the ghost wakes you at 2AM, don’t wrestle it. Stand up, touch the cold floor, and do one small thing with your hands. Wash a cup. Fold a shirt. Write one sentence. Mundane human actions can cut through the night’s terror.