Whelp, didn’t think I’d go off the deep end tonight, but here I am.
Through the smiles and laid back facade, I am still pretty messed up.
If you ask me how I’m doing my answer is almost always “good.” Because I usually am, and it sounds better than “fine.” And most people don’t really want to know how your doing.
They want to get on with their lives and be blissfully thinking that I’m alright, because it makes them feel better.
So once again, everyone just wants me to be ok. But news flash: I am not. And I’m coming to terms with this revelation. Do you ever get those questions where there’s a fixed answer, like “your okay. Right????”
That doesn’t mean I’m sitting around moping and feeling sorry for myself. Far from it. I find it very difficult to sit for too long doing nothing. It means I’m finding it hard to function some days, and I’m constantly reminded of what happened.
So an off hand comment made to sound funny or clever, is actually really hurtful. The pain in my heart is still there and is very fresh, and deep.
In fact, I feel more heartache now than I did when the girls died. I’ve been told this is pretty common with people who experience trauma. The severity of the trauma is not realized until weeks or months after the fact.
I am the poster child for this phenomenon. In the moment I’m in survival mode. As time passes and all is said and done, I am left with the consequences of my decisions.
Trapped inside my head. With the guilt. The pain. The memories. And the memories I can never make with my girls.
Its all there, constantly cycling through my brain. Some days I can quiet the noise, but tonight I could not. A cocktail of a defiant toddler, loneliness, canceled plans, hormones, and an insensitive comment did the trick.
At the end of the day its my burden to carry, and I will carry it like a champ. Like I do everything else.
But it would be nice to have some one to lean on every once in a while, to lighten the load.
Join me on my path back to hope~