Well my friends & family it's been a long, grueling journey. Picking up the pieces of my life after her transition has been one of the toughest things I've had to do ever. I received sooooooooo many beautiful cards, flowers from friends & strangers...New friends who I'm so blessed to have encountered. They've gotten me through like you'll never know. Within my own darkness I'm trying to be a good friend to others. I ask for strength in times of need, to be a mentor to those who need me in that capacity but it's so hard. I'm not usually one to say "Let me call you back" only because I'm unable to step outside of my own pains to be there for others. I hope to get back to that...One day. Most days I'm floating in disarray. Like that feather in Forrest Gump; floating in the wind with no guidance, direction or specific destination, not even a purpose. I swear I'm so lost, I wake up EACH morning forgetting what day it is, I have moments where I forget she's gone, as if I black out. And when I come to, the heartache repeats itself. It's unbearable. Most of the time I think of what could I have done in my past to have deserved this punishment. I'm not perfect but I try to be a good decent person & being kind to others. I feel like I failed her, the thought of living without her scares the hell out of me & there's nothing I can do about it...I just don't get it. It's been weeks since my last post. I haven't been able to get my thoughts into a cohesive manner on screen or in a journal. My thoughts don't seem to make much sense, well to anyone besides me anyhow. So I just keep to myself most of the time. I finally came back home a month ago & there's really no way to describe the pain & detriment my heart has experienced. My sofa is still covered with stains from her G-Tube site where she lays, medicine or milk droppings..Amoxicillin wreaks in certain areas on my sofa.I'll NEVER have it cleaned. Those stains will remain ingrained to signify the life & presence of my sweet angel. Medicine bottles still sit in my fridge, syringes & supplies sitting in their respected storage areas. What will I do? Talking about her makes me angry, hurt, sad & frustrated to the point where I don't want to talk about her. If I'm not drowning my sorrows in painting, writing or re-decorating I'm full of anxiety & balling my eyes out. The sound of her voice in my mind, or sound of the vents blasting throughout the house has left my subconscious in a fog. The reality is there's no vent sounds anymore, her tiny sweet cooing is no more...I have nothing else but the void of silence...
This is the first time I ever understood what "Finding myself" meant. I've heard it many times but didn't understand the voracity of it until now. I began painting again. It's therapeutic in being creative. She's kind of a mantra or inspiration to that creativity. I even started beading again, & designing some new ideas. I used to bead all the time but stopped because I was occupied. It was hard sometimes being a mom & doing my creativity thing. Now that I have time to spare, I'm using it to get back to what I was before motherhood. I also will be going back to work soon. Had an interview this week. It'll be hard to get back to the old Christine with all the trauma I've endured, not to mention the emotional & physical pain. Trying to manage both is hard. As they're both in not-so-great conditions.
I'll end it here for now & will be back hopefully sooner than later...;)
By the way...;)
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