January 29, 2014
6 months later... this is where I am at.
I've been given advice to keep writing things down. It helps 'therapeutically'.
Days and weeks seem to drift by aimlessly as I struggle to make sense of my life. There is nothing on this earth that seems to comfort me. I have moments where I can find happiness, true happiness, but it doesn't happen very often. I keep up appearances, smile, engage people in conversation, act like a human being. When, if I am honest with myself, I just want to curl up in a ball and cry.
Six month later and my heart still aches as it did that day.
As a mother I strive to keep up my daily life as normal as possible for my other two children. I take them to school, joke around, make their food, put them in time-out, and cuddle. I try so very hard to be normal and put together for them.
I worry about my husband. I feel like I need to be the strong one in the family. I need to keep everything together.
And it's just getting to be too much.
I tend to pride myself on my ability of self-control, honesty, and independence. But recently, I just feel myself unravelling. It's been long enough now, where I know that he isn't coming back to me. He really is gone from my life.
I have two hours a day where I am completely alone. I fill that time with homework and chores. Rarely do I have an instance where I do absolutely nothing. Today, I just needed to write. I should be sitting at this desk doing grammar exercises for my English class, but I just can't bring myself to do it right now.
I miss him so terribly.
The holidays were emotionally horrific. It was nice to see my nieces and nephews, and to see the fun that my children have with them. But every day we were all together, there was always someone missing. There was always a smile missing from our pictures.
I swore to myself that I wouldn't be the person to start avoiding the one year olds, but I just can't help myself. I just can't stand it. Every single day was a vivid reminder that my son was gone. Every time complaints were made about changing diapers I almost broke down and just cried. I would kill to change my son's diapers again. I would do anything humanly possible to give him medicine again, to stay home with him, to play with him. How dare you complain. And yet, I said nothing. It's not their fault I feel this way. They wouldn't understand.
Some days I just wish that I could forget him all together. The anguish that I feel for him is unbearable. How does Heavenly Father expect me to live 60 more years without him, carrying this around with me for the rest of my life?
I wish people would just shut up and give me a hug. I don't need sentimental crap. I need someone to talk to, that I won't burden, that will listen. I do read each and every email, post, letter, and message. Thank you to all who have taken time out and written me. I don't normally write back, but I just wanted to let you know it doesn't go unnoticed or unappreciated.
Being told that I am strong is ridiculous. Having my son pass away and have every aspect of my existence called into question, as I strive to continue a normal life, and be a good wife and mother, as I feel my mind just collapse, is strength?
I don't care who you are. If you have something so precious be taken away, you will question your faith. You will want to know FOR A FACT where the hell your child is. Everything about my religion is sounding more and more ridiculous. Every religion sounds absurd. Is religion here just to placate the natural man? To give purpose to this really shitty life? At this point, I just don't know.
I find comfort in the teachings of the LDS faith. I do. It puts my heart at ease. But, do I KNOW that this is the truth? No. Not yet, at least, according to LDS scholars, I need to ponder and pray more. Because, earnestly and humbly praying to save my son's life worked so well.
That's the best any religion can do, is to give you hope that this life isn't for nothing.
I do find comfort in things. I find comfort in silence. I find comfort in my children (when they are peaceful). I find comfort in school.
I would have never known that school would help me so much. We only meet once a week, but that two and a half hours is just perfect to get my mind off of my life, and on to something else. No other family is there. It's just me and my classmates. They bring me more comfort than they will ever know. I feel human again. I feel like I am making a difference. It makes me feel like I am progressing somewhere in my life.
I am told that there is hope, that I will again find joy. That the heartbreak will never go away, but it will lighten. I really do hope that they are right.