When my best friend told me she had a brain aneurism and the doctor gave her six months to live, I hugged her as she stared out the window, tears streaming down her face.
‘Try to make it to my funeral, I’ll understand if you can’t.’
That was the first time I took my guilt and buried it. Stuffed it under my uncle’s sorrow and my best friend’s fear.
I never knew how to be someone’s rock, but after years and years of shouldering other people’s pain and ignoring my own, I became harder and harder. Stone by stone my wall became higher.
I can take your pain, but do not ask about mine. That’s buried far too deep and this wall is too high.