I'm not sure where to begin. How many ways can you say the same thing? How many times will I find myself in this same place? This hole simply gets deeper and darker.

I have a desire to speak. No, I have a desire to scream. To demand all that I deserve but will never get from those who only think they care. The world is filled with selfish, unreliable people. It's naive to think my own personal world would be any different.

There is no point in saying more. It falls on deaf ears and I'm tired of the cycle anyway.

Grief

This past week I did a training on grief in relation to reproductive loss. While I have never experienced such a loss, the grief training was discussed as grief from reproductive loss being similar to any type of loss. It was a powerful presentation on how to compassionately discuss and handle grief from clients who have either miscarried or had an abortion. It opens the door that is so often shut due to a societal taboo. I was very glad I went but I will not lie if I said the training was emotionally easy. Not only was my heart opened further for those who have experienced a reproductive loss, it made me think of all the losses in my life and the different degrees of grief I have endured.

One of the biggest component that hit me on Thursday was the concept of how much a loss of any type can change you. The reality that who you were before the loss no longer exists. As a human race I believe one of our biggest struggles is letting go. We constantly try to go back to a certain time when things were where we wanted them. We try to recreate feelings we once had or experiences that made us feel whole. But the truth of the matter is we cannot do this. Once we experience something that shakes us to the core and uproots our life we cannot go back. We are forever changed. We are molded by our past situation and will forever see the world through the lenses of our experience. This does not mean we cannot heal. It does not mean we cannot forgive or move on. It just means that we are a different person. It is foolish to think you can go back and be who you used to be. Life does not have a rewind button or delete. It just has a move forward.

Acceptance plays a huge part. In order to move forward and gain a sense of normalcy we have to accept the new version of ourselves. We have to accept our new reality. Perhaps even harder is that we need to find people and surround ourselves with those who can accept you too. People who do not question why you've changed. People who do not demand that you simply reset and restart but understand that life changed you. You need to find people who will love you through it.

The Chase

All my life I fear I may have been running.  Trying desperately to escape this darkness that all too often consumes me.  I think back at my childhood and I can't pinpoint when it started. When my smiles stopped coming forth effortlessly and there was no longer a lightness to my heart.  When did everything get so heavy and so jumbled? When did I begin fighting to just stay sane?

Perhaps my biggest issue is the state of my life.  My beautiful, precious, seemingly fragile life.  I have everything. I spent so many years dreaming of being here.  The imperfections and quirks of being married, being a mother and fighting an ever growing financial tide are not things to complain over. Not things I feel burdened by. They're blessings and joys even in the most difficult times.  Yet here I am still drowning. Still doing everything I can to get a breath of air. Why can I not escape this darkness that continously overpowers me?  Like a demon that sole purpose is to take over my soul and strip me of any hope, I'm haunted.  Tormented. I'm screaming and not a sound comes out. I have absolutely no control.

Yet I still get up,  get dressed and go out and be productive. I still love without restraint and care without any limit.  I still strive to make even the tiniest mark on the world. And I'm not sure why that is. All I do know is I'm still only half the person I could be.  And I have no idea if the other half will be able to be shown the light.

Until then I'll just keep running.

7/18/15

I remember being a teenager and planning my whole life. I always knew I wanted children. The number of them varied from year to year and at some point I settled down at three. I knew I would get married young, have children soon after and ultimately be done by the age of 30. All the while balancing a successful career. I never felt naive about it. I would simply just have gotten it done. I never expected it to be easy. I just expected myself to succeed, Fast forward a few hard years, cancer, an unplanned pregnancy and dealing with the emotional turmoil that proceeded my marriage to my husband, here I am. I am 25, happily married and I have a beautiful little girl-but I'm terrified. Actually I may be in full blown panic mode. Nothing is the way it was supposed to be. And I keep foolishly trying to solve a puzzle with the wrong pieces. It's exhausting. It's debilitating stress. And I feel so very alone.

I honestly don't know how to relinquish control. But I haven't had any control over my life in years. I keep swimming against the current and getting swept away. But I'm too stubborn to quit. Too proud to give up. I keep grasping at the dreams and ideals of my past and everything is getting foggy. I worked so hard. Climbed so many mountains. I cried too many tears. I'm screaming like the spoiled brat that I am, demanding some tiny bit of what I feel is owed to me. What I feel should already be mine.

I want security. I've never dreamed of a mansion on top of a hill and my life to be a vacation. I just want to feel like the ground isn't going to fall out from under me.

Today is Friday

Time escapes me. Almost two years have gone by since I've written in this silly thing. A lot happens in two years, even when "nothing" seems to actually happen.

I'm not even sure what I'm trying to compose here. Though, it may have always been that way. There was just always that inclination to somehow make sense of my life that compelled me to spit my emotions out.

As I begin to creep up on 26 you would think that I would have more of a sense of what life has in store for me. Yet as of late you'll find me on my knees begging God for some type of clue. I'm grasping at dreams I'm not sure I should keep. Why is it that I am always such a mess?

I have so much more to offer than I have been allowed to give.

Selfish

To say I'm going through something would be an understatement.  A person can only take so much yet here I am somehow still taking more.  My frontal lobe is damaged beyond repair.  In result I have a difficulty choosing my words in ways that I wish.  My judgment is not always correct.  My emotions are nearly unmanageable.  I feel myself sinking and I can't do a single thing to stop it. 

Ending my life is my fall back plan.  It always has been.  Suicide is always an option. I can't help but consider it.  It plagues my thoughts and the whispers in my head just get louder.  Many think suicide is a selfish act.  I happen to not.  And let's not start an argument about it. 

But I am being selfish.  Last night I laid in bed and thought everything over.  I thought about Alexis growing up without me.  I thought about her being raised in a home without my influence.  Then it all hit me.  It isn't that my beautiful little girl could not grow up into a marvelous,  strong woman without me.  She would be just fine.  It is that I can't stand the thought of missing a thing.  Not one smile,  one hug, one kiss. I can't miss one milestone,  one event.  I have to live not because I will bring her joy, but because that's what she brings me. 

I'm selfishly soaking up the love my daughter gives me.  I'm supposed to protect her.  Love her.  Help her.  Save her from every and any harm.  But she's the one saving me. 

Stripped

I'm hollowed out. I buried my heart where no one can touch it.  I'm still standing.  Still breathing.  But let's be honest,  I've been slaughtered. 

She's all I think about.  My glue. But I can't gain my strength from her.  She needs to lean on me.

Lies.  Betrayal.  Dishonesty.

I don't care about making sense.  I don't desire to be seen as sane.  I'm not worried about the appearance of my intellect.

I'm tired of forming words that will never hold true meaning.

"I'd like to be my old self again,  but I'm still trying to find it"