Tuesday, May 13, 2014

Breaking Down

Fighting off crazy...

I have good days.. sort of.  I mean, I have wonderful moments.  Blissful moments.  Not often they'll encompass the greater part of the day.  It's so sad when someone asks me how I am and the natural response is something aiming for neutral eluding to bleakness.  I want to shout, "No!  I promise I have good moments!"  I do cherish them.  I promise.  I try to roll in the happy moments.  Truly praise the moments where I can touch happiness.  I roll around in the feeling of bliss when I laugh so hard I get my asthma cough and my sides ache.  But it's the other moments.  The feeling of having to fight for normal.  How to try to stay luke warm about the longing in my heart.  Being terrified to hope for anything other than what I already have.  I swear to you I look at my baby, all knit up, not too far from being a man and I am truly grateful.

I never once missed his being little.  I have always revelled in whatever stage he was at, good and bad all together.  Challenging phases and new grasps at humanity and learning to use his own moral compass.  Following his heart and being patient.  Trusting there's more to know than what he knows right now.  He is amazing.  I am proud.  I am humbled.  But for the first time I miss that little baby.

I saw a picture I posted on FB on Mother's Day.  It's Brett's favorite picture of me and Marsh.  He was less than a month old.  We were in the front yard of the house I grew up in.  Sitting on a blanket.  Mid July.  I smooched his tiny chubby face.  I remember the feel of his soft, smooth, translucent skin. I remember how he smelled like candy.  I remember the little grunts he'd make.  The weight of his little body, not even seven pounds.  It's too far away now.  I loved it then but I want to do it again.

I want to share all the new things with another person.  I want to breathe them in.  Spend lazy afternoons napping.  I want to promise to always love them when they're crying, not quite yet understanding my words.  I want to create that special spot beside me, snuggling at nap times, reserved for only them.  I want to watch them discover new things.  I want to learn from them and help guide them so that they may also learn.

I'm afraid.  I'm afraid that I will never have this again.  Any precious babe I will hold again will go home to it's mother/caregiver and it will punctuate how empty my arms are.  I'm afraid I'm wasting my time wanting something not destined to be mine.  I'm afraid if I give up the Universe can never give me that which I desire.  I'm afraid the reason I don't have it is because I don't deserve it.  I'm neurotic.  I'm selfish.  I'm lazy.  I'm overbearing.  I'm afraid the Universe is screaming at me to give up, give in, this is not my journey.  I'm afraid if I do get pregnant again that I will lose another child.  Pregnancy, to me never equates having a child.  I have over a decade of messages telling me otherwise.  Not for me.  Other people get pregnant and have babies.  I get pregnant and have miscarriages.  Being pregnant and giving birth was something someone else named Johanna did once.

And the guilt.  The guilt that I have so many things so easy in life and here I am a fucking disaster.  I have food, water, a home, a husband, a son, a cat, clothes, running water, electricity, fancy gadgets, days off, health.  I have friends who are fighting for their lives.  I have loved ones who have passed on because they could no longer hold on to theirs.  What the fuck is my problem?  I feel like a privileged brat who is drowning in self pity.  I'm afraid I can't hold my shit together in order to live a normal, adult life.

Another thing I revel in is the few moments I can manage to be okay with me.  Because the predominant feelings I have right now are pretty much self loathing.  Pointing out everything I'm doing wrong and having no wherewithal to change anything.  Thus feeding my negative opinions about myself.  No worries.  I don't hate me.  I am just SO not my biggest fan right now.

I had to be done for the day today.  I'm calling to try to get Intermittent FMLA.  Need to see if it's something I can even get.  I couldn't hold it together. I tried so hard to compartmentalize what I was feeling.  Just pretend to be someone else.  Act.  I managed for a while.  I essentially sobbed my whole break.  Tried to pull it back.  Hoping the release would give me the space to get my head straight for the rest of my day.  The hyperventilating clued me into the fact that this just wasn't going to happen. I'm hoping EAP will help pay for seeing my counselor again for a few sessions.  I can't muster the energy to even make good with the trades I've set up with her.  I'm sort of annoyed that I pay so much a month towards medical but can't afford to use it because I'm broke from paying for my medical.  It's not like it's free after paying for it.  I have bills to prove that.  Oh, but I digress.

I'm going to go now.  Lay in bed and try not to think.  Luckily Brett's on his way home.

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