A Long Way Home

A Long Way Home Chapter 1I have tried to reduce the number of people around me, but there were still too many. I could not do anything about my family, except to ignore a few calls here and there and pretend that I was not home if they chose to visit without calling first. I had not gone to their houses and I wished they could take that as a hint that they should not come to mine, unless I invited them. I loved my family but I was not in a good place at the moment and I was dealing with it the best way I could by not having anyone around me. I was told by too many people that this was not the way to go, but when I tried their methods, things just got worse for me. I would do this my way.In the process of reducing my circle, I started with the sale of my company. I no longer had meetings and business dinners, therefore, a large part of my interaction with people was removed by this one grand action. My family and friends disagreed with the sale of my business at a time when it was at its optimal performance, so I listened to fewer of those voices by refusing visits and lunch dates. I also stopped listening to their gossip and family updates, then I stopped taking their calls. It was nothing personal, it was just therapy.I had fired my personal assistant four times and she always happened to be visiting someone in the neighborhood before deciding to stop by. Whenever she did, there was always an errand to run, so I would pay her only to find it continuing for a few weeks before I fired her again. Then suddenly, there were groceries on my doorstep and I had to pay her because I did not want her to think I was using her service for free when I actually needed the groceries she brought. The last time I fired her was last week, so she was due back any minute.I used to be the life of the party, and it was crazy that I had gotten to a place where I did not want to see anyone. The loss I suffered took years to trigger this intense response and I thought I was strong enough to carry on without breaking. I broke, because my strength had waned over time and now I could not hold myself up anymore. I was still living, although I did not deserve that, and I was just waiting for fate to pay me back by taking my life the way I had taken Hanna’s. I did not do it directly, but I was the cause of it.I grieved the loss and I was in a bad place like most people would, but I bounced back within the normal timeline - at least, that was what everyone thought, including me. However, as the years passed I realized that I had spent the entire time ripping away my inner being as guilt and regret silently destroyed me, and now, four years later, I was broken beyond repair. Living things and people around me suddenly seemed undeserving of life when the sweetest, most beautiful woman in the world was no longer a part of it, and it seemed that the best way to accept responsibility was to not enjoy anything or anyone around me. I was working on that, but it wasn’t enough. I need to be away from this lavish lifestyle and reduce myself to the bare minimum. That was the place I needed to be in order to feel as if I deserved the air I breathed.Hanna. Oh, how I loved her. She had so much zest and was just teeming with life. She was brilliant and beautiful beyond comprehension and she was the light of her family’s eyes. We were supposed to get married and have a family of our own and she was looking forward to that most of all, then just like that she was gone. When I woke up in that hospital room and found out that all her dreams would never be realized and the people who loved her would never hear her voice again, I wanted to die. It was the most excruciating pain anyone could ever feel, and I concentrated what should have been about three months at the peak of grieving and packed it into about two weeks.For two weeks I screamed and crushed my body into a ball and I tried to use internal pressure to mentally and physically destroy myself because I did not deserve to be here. I did not want to eat or sleep or live and my family and friends would often scoop me off the floor to shower and eat, and then I was on the floor again. For two weeks that happened, and then I crashed – sleeping for two days. And when my eyes opened, I bounced right back and attended her funeral then returned to work as I was before the accident. I felt as if I had grieved the way I should and life would go on. I was back in full swing with my friends, my family, and my business. Everyone was concerned about my sudden repair, but I assured them that I was fine, and my actions after, supported that assurance.I had smiled in the mirror and I had looked better. I had not gone on a date after Hanna died, but every other part of my life was in full swing and I was laughing and enjoying life with my friends. A year came and went and I was fine. I was fully cured. That was what I thought. A year turned into three then little things around me start to remind me of how unworthy I was of them, but I pushed through even with the thoughts slowly consuming me. Then came year four, it