I can deal with my father’s death, even if it’s tragic and awful and makes me want to puke—I have seen this now, that I can survive a worst-case-scenario, that surviving it is no longer an idyllic, future happening, but a reality that I’ve been thrust into.
I’m another souvenir, amongst many, from the various journeys through time that my father took. Perhaps more deeply rooted, being his child, but still a part of a much larger picture.
A good sign that you’re having a meltdown is that you just spent $15.00 on an Eckhart Tolle audiobook. It’s a last ditch attempt to run away from your current self and discover that elusive peace of mind.