Dear Blake, I'm Mad At You.

 Dear Blake, I'm Mad At You.

Dear Blake,

We are coming up on the year anniversary of your passing. Time really has no meaning, because I swear you passed just yesterday, three weeks ago, and ten years ago, all at once. 

I've been feeling flat-out stuck. I ran the gauntlet, from my birthday, Thanksgiving, your birthday, Christmas, New Year's, and then threw in a little "20th anniversary of my dad's passing," for good measure. 

Basically, I'm down for anything to budge the stuck-ness, so I found myself at something you'd made fun of- a group breathwork session. The scene looks like something you'd find in a cult documentary, but I gotta say, laying there, breathing, rocking my legs back and forth, with my hands in a sort of prayer position on my forehead (no idea how or why I'd gotten into that position), absolutely SOBBING, full on ugly crying, tears running down my face, something inside me broke and rang out: I'm mad at you.