Last time, it took years, and I see no reason for things to be any easier this time around. In many ways it's a lot harder, this time. I'm taking it personally, this time.
Minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, years, decades?
I have no way of knowing how long it will take. I find myself constantly overestimating my strengths, and underestimating the obstacles ahead.
Sometimes I get a little tired and discouraged. Tired of the shock and the pain. Discouraged because, this time, there's no clear end - no clear goal. I just plod along and hope that maybe I'll eventually get to a good place.
Weeks was my initial prediction, and that's been proven to be entirely too optimistic. All I know is that, until that wonderful day when this relentless sobbing stops emanating from deep within me, acting normal will be beyond my abilities.