Sometimes the only way out is through.

Well I think this is true in most cases.

I can’t fast forward to the destination when situations become unbearable.

Taking the journey is the whole point of our existence. To live through everything and learn from our failures just as much as our triumphs.

Therapy is just one tool that has helped me on my journey. I was hesitant at first. Not because I was afraid of opening up and talking about “my feelings” as it were.

But because I didn’t understand the magnitude in which talking to a therapist could actually help me.

I talk to family and friends of course. But something purely magical (yes magical) happens when you get unbiased constructive feedback from a professional who is there just for you.

She has helped me face some demons that I didn’t even know I’ve been keeping locked away in the back of my mind.

There’s other memories and thoughts that are easy to conjure but I lacked the skills of how to deal with them.

Its like my brain is constantly being rebooted every time I discover and learn something new and then applying it to my life.

Except I don’t have time to stop and reboot my brain.

All this input is coming in. Cells are being rewired and then routed to other areas, causing a major delay in my cognitive abilities.

My grief itself, learning how to deal with my grief, and realizing my childhood trauma of compartmentalizing my emotions is a lot for anyone to actualize.

What I desperately want people to understand is that it takes time to heal when someone goes through any sort of trauma.

There really is no timeline. Everyone is different. Just because the event is over with does not mean it is over for the person it happened to.

If I look a little down, for heavens sake ask how I’m doing. And not using a customer service voice but genuinely asking me. I really do enjoy opening up to people.

Personally I can tell when someone is having an off day; usually its written all over their face. My instinct is to brighten their day if I can.

It feels really lonely. Most days I carry a festering knot of emotions in my chest. My heart is loud and bursting while the rest of the world is still.

As if people have already forgotten about the girls, or they have moved on. Knowing that people still care helps me a lot.

But at the end of the day it doesn’t matter what other people think. All I have control over is how I treat them, and hopefully they will reciprocate my kindness.

There needs to be a little more patience in the world, understanding, and a lot more kindness.

With those three in tow we as a species could be unstoppable, and hope unequivocally attainable~

this is life

I said I would leave the light on for the universe in a desperate attempt for guidance and nudges in the right direction, on its own timeline, and not my own.

But the universe has overstayed their welcome this week, I dare say this whole friggin’ year.

Frustrating as it is, guidance doesn’t come when its convenient, when I’m ready, or for any foreseeable reason.

I’ve taken my complicated pregnancy and every miniscule thing that goes with that in stride.

Bringing a human into the world in of itself is a stressful and joyful duality of a experience. The stress and joy I endured from growing my girls inside of me, to birth, to the heartbreak of not having them here in my arms on Earth, is not a load many have carried.

My heart goes out to all the conjoined twin mommas and papas out there, and all the family members and friends who loved those twins just as much.

Even with the seemingly endless heartbreak and knowing what I know now, I wouldn’t change any of my decisions.

Our twins are worth everything.

I still carry my burdens and thoughts that I could have done more. Maybe I didn’t hold them enough or took enough pictures. Over time those thoughts will fade, but they will never leave me. Again, our twins are worth it.

The month of May used to be a time just to celebrate my birthday and when I finally became a mother to my oldest, mothers day. Now we will celebrate the girls birthday too.

Looking back I don’t know how I got through that month. My mom had a cocktail of pneumonia, lingering congestive heart failure, and unregulated diabetes that came to a head. I still need her my life, especially now. So the thought of this being her undoing was too much to take.

The summer was filled with figuring out how to carry on with my grief and life without the girls. Once therapy sessions and workouts were settled, I also helped take care of my mom.

Fall brought about going back to several jobs, not taking classes this semester, thoughts of changing my career field entirely, and trying to buy a house.

Flash forward to the present, the reason why this post is late is due to exhaustion from working almost every day and taking care of my husband after dislocating his knee. A sick and defiant toddler is also draining.

But this is life.

Its not all rainbows and butterflies. There’s unfathomable pain and suffering in all of our futures, but also boundless love.

I wouldn’t have it any other way.

And I accept this contrast that life brings. Whatever pain I endure is valid, and so is yours.

Join me on my path back to hope~

here come the holidays

Working six days in a row this week has preoccupied my mind and made me physically exhausted, leaving little room for actual thinking besides the dreaded: “what should I make for dinner?”

I really love working hard, and now I’m starting to reap the benefits of exercising three days a week for almost four months. I think it took me three months to fully have endurance, strength, and flexibility again to the point where I wasn’t out of breath or sweating profusely.

I still have a long way to go to where I want my body to be physically, but I am so proud of what I’ve accomplished so far.

And as I revel in my new found abilities, I’ve wondered why somber thoughts haven’t crossed the threshold between my brain and my heart.

You know the saying be careful what you wish for? Well….I didn’t wish for it, but I certainly jinxed it, and the sadness took over me on Friday.

It started at work. Luckily I was alone in the back room that day, so I didn’t have to explain anything to anyone. Although I do have some amazing empathetic coworkers. That’s one of the main reasons why I came back to work there.

Most of the time I can’t hear the music with all the hustle and bustle, but one song caught my attention. We have finally started playing Christmas music.

After fourteen years of retail I really dread the same carols that play right after Halloween every year. And yet I love carols. Actually I love to sing them acapella with a four-five part harmony.

One of the versions of “I’ll be home for Christmas” started playing, and I realized what the holidays are truly going to be like.

I will never have a Christmas with the girls.

I fully believe they are here in spirit of course and will always be with me. But that will never compare to physically embracing them and watching them grow into their own to experience the world on their terms.

Again though, I stopped myself from processing this thought. Sucking back the tears to get through the last hour of the work day.

Maybe its too hard for me to fathom the duality of what could have been and what really is.

At the very least I commend myself for feeling something rather than becoming an emotionless void.

That I’m still capable of mourning my girls between the days when my mood is outstanding and untouchable.

What really strikes a chord is talking about the girls with my mom. She is a fierce and mighty woman who doesn’t let very many people in behind her walls. I know her as this incredibly caring and astute person who is just as heartbroken about her grandchildren as anyone could be.

So when she cries, you feel it. Those tears come from the deepest recesses of a heart trying to hold itself together but not knowing how.

Handling my emotions with the holidays coming closer and rearing their joyful abundance is something I can only deal with one day at a time. As arduous as this is for me, there is a burden that my family will carry through all of this as well.

I enjoy this time of year but its the first one without my twins, so inevitably this will be difficult.

Join me on my path back to hope~


I’m tapering off the bitter end of a handful of emotional days.

Honestly its my own fault. Although shark week does bring about hormones that are somewhat out of my control.

Lack of sleep due to many reasons I won’t get into right now, fighting off a cold, and personal worries have left me, well, cranky.

And to top it off a streak of anger has unearthed itself from the bowels of my emotions. I don’t let too many people see that side of me. When I’m overcome with anger I feel incredibly out of control and irrational. Getting mad over the silliest of things that have absolutely no meaning. I don’t let myself get this way very often or around many people.

I literally weave my own webs of frustration. Its all me. Certain situations call for a little passion and outrage of course, so I’m not talking about that.

But if my daughter is being defiant I shouldn’t take it personally. Usually she’s tired herself, or over stimulated, hungry/thirsty, wants attention, etc. You know, basic human needs.

If there are drivers on the road riding my tail I’ll pull over and let them pass instead of fuming about it. When I’m shopping and everyone seems to be in my personal bubble to look at something I try my best not to snap at them.

Also consistent lack of sleep in general will make anyone feel loopy.

I need to stop being so hard on myself, and therein lies the problem. Knowing I can do better and be better, but acting the opposite. Taking two steps forward, just to take four steps back.

Even with this in the back of my mind, I had a great therapy session this week. I talked about private thoughts that only a few people know.

And the best part? She listened. She gave me a refreshing outlook on my ideas and memories that have shaped me into the person I am. And the person I’m trying to accept.

What I learned is quite profound and will take time to process.

We talked about my lucid dreams and the nightmares I’ve had since I was a child. Those are the things that have really affected the way I sleep, along with a house fire and break in.

Dreams with recurring themes. Waking up frequently. Unnerving energies in my room. And more recently my daughters need to be close to me most of the night to name just a few more.

I’ve accepted my weird sleep patterns and everything that comes with them. Some days are more difficult than others to shoulder that exhaustion.

But I persevere. Take each day as they come. And celebrate the moments where I don’t give into my frustrations and instead choose positivity.

Join me on my path back to hope~