This is really hard to do. It’s also hard not to do. Blog, I mean. Getting the words out of my head and my heart. Every night when I lay down to sleep, the words start forming themselves in my head. If I wake during the night – or I should say when I wake during the night, there they are still swirling around. If I had the energy, that would be the time for me to sit down and write. Instead, I let them write themselves and then try to remember what it was I wanted to say later. By that time, I just don’t want to revisit it all. Truth be told, I am sick of this whole thing.
I am sick of having these feelings bubbling around all the time. They are always just under the surface, ready to boil over at any moment. I’m sick of being so profoundly sad all the time. I’m sick of struggling to take each and every breath. Day in and day out, it’s a war against Grief, and I’m losing the battle. I’m sick and tired of fighting it. I’m sick of myself. I’m sick of missing Nolan and it’s only been a half a minute since I’ve held him! I’m sick of talking about the same damn thing every time I write. I’m sick of crying. Dear Lord, I have cried an ocean of tears and there is still no end in sight! I’m sick and tired of this whole thing! I don’t want to do it anymore. I don’t want to spend every moment, waking and sleeping, crying out for my son. I don’t want to keep expecting him to walk around the corner with some goofy look on his face or wisecrack comment. I don’t want to stop expecting it either because that would mean that I’ve absorbed the idea of him not being here. I’m so sick and tired of starting and ending my day in tears. I’m sick of being a puddle of sadness and anger every day.
I’m getting better at hiding all this. I don’t know why I am, since I’ve given myself a Disclaimer, which you can read here (but remember to open in a new window): https://livingbetweenbreaths.wordpress.com/2014/10/14/i-now-come-with-a-disclaimer/ Maybe because I’m so sick of me, I figure everyone else must be too. Actually, I haven’t given all that much thought as to why I’m starting to hide. I’ve just noticed that I am. We are having company like we did Before. We are opening our home to kids and families like we did Before. I will be social and seem fine when you come over. I will laugh with you and joke and carry on a conversation. I will fix you a cocktail and ask about what’s going on in your world. Truth is, I won’t remember what you tell me. It’s not that I’m not interested. It’s that my mind is so filled with white noise that nothing sinks in.
I miss my old life. I miss the old me. I miss easily finding humor in almost anything. I miss laughing a sincere laugh. I miss wanting to go out and do things. I miss smiling. I miss taking all the little things for granted. I miss saying to myself “Oh geez, what were you thinking??” I’ve buried that woman with Nolan. She’s gone too. Not only do I mourn Nolan, but I mourn who I will never be again. I mourn for the mother Li’l N will never see again. I mourn for the wife that DH has lost. I mourn for the grandmother Baby E will never know. I mourn for the family that is gone.
I don’t want this life I’ve been dealt. I’m fighting against it so hard that it’s making me wonder if I should simply surrender. No matter how hard or how long I fight it, this will never change. I will never have my dearest Nolan back where I want him. I will never be that spontaneous spitfire I once was. I will never have the family I had Before. What would happen if I gave up the fight? Will I be swallowed whole by Grief and never come out? Will I walk in a haze the rest of my days? Will I simply go to sleep and not wake up? I have no idea. I’m not going to win this war. I think there is a certain strength in surrendering to the things you simply cannot change. This is me, raising the white flag. I give up. I give in. You win, Universe. Do with me what you will.