Sunday, March 31, 2013

Confessions From The Broken


So here I am. A year after my bittersweet blessing. Crazy to think all that's happened in a year and how different it all should be. I thought by now I would've found some kind of peace or at least been able to not hurt as bad but I haven't and it does. No one ever says it'll be easy. But maybe I had hoped it would get better but here I sit still blaming myself, bawling my eyes out, with a cigarette in one hand.

 I've been telling myself and everyone else that smoking was just my stress reliever and that is how it started but I'm starting to think that I just keep doing it because it has become something that I can rely on, something familiar, something I understand, something that will just be there for me. 

My whole family is moving, friends come and go, and then there is just me. Maybe I'm being overdramatic and maybe I'm just whining but I just feel alone. All alone trying to survive in a world that makes it so hard. Trying to figure it all out. I just don't understand and I know I probably never will. What did I do wrong? Why do these things happen? 

One thing that still kills me inside is where is my partner in all of this? The third piece to me and Baby Treesh.. Why is he not here? Why has he never been here? Why are we not grieving together? This is something the two of us should be able to talk about and share with each other because he's the only one who's ever going to understand everything. But he is off trying to forget the whole thing… me, us, our baby… how is it so easy for him? why can't I do that? why am I the one here dying? I shouldn't have to do this alone and part of me can't help but hate him for not being here…

"Everything happens for a reason", "it was for the best", "it wasn't time", all of these are so true. But it still hurts. Its still real. I'm so sick of being strong and putting on a straight face… When does it get better? When does it stop hurting? 

I can still hear my baby's heartbeat. I still remember how happy we were, how we were gonna be a little family. How everything was going to be okay, the three of us.

Then I remember the agonizing pain, the blood, the hospital, the needles, the false hope when the doctor told us things still looked normal, the silence when we couldn't find a heartbeat, my mom holding me as my world fell apart, as I cried my eyes out for this child I'd never be able to hold, as I cried for this idea that I was so in love with, the days that followed when I couldn't do anything but lay in bed and cry and push everyone away when all they wanted to do was help, when I couldn't deal with my own grief, when all I could do was blame myself and ask "why?". Everyone told me "it'll be okay", "everything happens for a reason", "it was god's will", "its for the best", "I'm sorry", "it's not your fault. You can't blame yourself", etc. I remember the pain, tears, agony, emptiness, loss, blame, shame, grief… everything. Thats what I remember. 

So here I am. A year later. Just as broken as I was back then. I just hope that one day, maybe I'll understand. Maybe it'll hurt less. Maybe I can stop blaming myself. Maybe things will be okay. 

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