Her sorrow was from loss. She couldn't remember a time when she didn't feel as if someone or something was leaving but she held on to pictures --in her mind mostly-- of happier times, so that she could feel some tether holding her. She needed an anchor, something to remind her that she should continue. Of falling in love, of stepping off the plane in Madrid as a newlywed, or holding her newborn for the first time. There was so many, really enough for a lifetime, but there were days when her sorrow felt like a tunnel, so deep that there was no way out.
Her shrink asked her when she felt her life reverse--when was the time when the loss began to beat out the joy. This was always a hard one for her to answer, so he kept asking, persistently, and she never got over the feeling that she was trying to ace some kind of test question. That if she answered wrong, a buzzer would sound and she'd have to go back to the beginning and start all over again. This was not appealing, because she was too tired; it all just seemed like way too much work. So she never answered the question.
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This is such a fabulous example of reflective writing - which really, can be very difficult. I love the language, the images you use, the metaphor. Nothing is overdone. And we're completely with the narrator emotionally. Really terrific!
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