Life Seeps In

Something in me is restored. I just keep feeling better and better. Sad memories are being pushed out by exciting thoughts of the future. I feel like someone turned on the light, and now that my eyes have adjusted, I can see things again.

For the first time in over a month, I want to go grocery shopping.

I want to prepare delicious meals for me and Josh.

I want to bake cookies to give as Christmas presents.

I want to put up decorations.

I want to hang out with my amazing friends.

I want to exercise and rebuild my body.

I want to take baths and read books and brush my hair and SMILE.

Hallelujah, I'm back!

What I've Been Meaning To Say All Along...

Fuck you, I'm awesome. And so is my kid.

I'm sorry I almost let you make me forget and subvert that. I've got my truth back, and hallelujah, you didn't stick.

It's so nice to be able to look at myself in the mirror and say, "I like who I am, and I've got nothing to hide".

And YOU miss out.

Now I'm done letting you have even one second of my brain space any longer. Reap what you sow, PL.



Though sorrow may last for the night, joy comes in the morning.

Okay.

Grateful. Grateful. Grateful. Find something to be grateful about. If you can live in gratitude, it will affect how you live, how you're perceived, and how you perceive things around you.

I'm trying, Lord.

I'm grateful that Josh isn't sick anymore. Last week was a disaster. He was so sick I ended up taking him to Sick Kids hospital. THAT night was a nightmare unto itself, and I discovered that someone I once thought so sound and solid and helpful wasn't any of those things... just selfish, uncaring, unkind. I ended up begging around until I could find a ride home.

I try not to be miserable about the prospect of raising Josh alone forever. But secretly, I'm scared. I think on how much I enjoyed having a partnership, a companion to help, and it makes me feel like there's not much to look forward to in the future. It makes me feel defeated and complacent. I know I need to get it together and snap out of it, but it's not coming so easily, you know?

Okay. That's enough of that. I'm grateful for my limbs, for my eyesight, for my job, my home, my daycare, my daycare subsidy, and most importantly, I'm grateful for my son. There are lots of positives, if I'll just choose to focus on them instead of what I lack.

And what I lack wasn't that great anyway.

Finally, tears.

Oh God, I've lost my mind.

It's gone. I'm gone. My poor son.

I don't know how to survive right now. I don't want to.

I know I've been through bad stuff before. This is really the topper. It's cumulative. At some point, it breaks you.

I'm broken.

I'm desperately broken.

No more of this. Or you. You awful, soul-crushing monster beast of a man. You've ruined so much.

Man, I don't even know what to say anymore. It's been such an up and down year. Right now, I'm heading into a hard trip (because of the associations with this time of year) and I'm trying to do it positively and gracefully. You know, the last time I was caught in a pit, I was able to really connect with God and feel myself being pulled along by his love, even if I dragged my feet and whined and complained. This time, I know he's got me, but I can't feel it. Instead, I feel like I'm in a canyon, and the sounds I receive are echoes of people far away.

I'm doing all the things I can, though. I'm not going to let myself sit at home and wallow. I'm forcing myself to go out and be social. I'm putting closure where closure is needed. I'm making a priority out of my own health and heart instead of laying them down on the chopping block for the sake of someone else. (That's really hard, by the way, for a co-dependent gal like me. You instinctively want to sacrifice your own well-being to "help" someone else, even if that person is shitting all over you.) I'm trying to be wise and keep going through the actions until my feelings catch up and kick in.

It kind of sucks.

Nevertheless, it's important so I keep walking. Walking... walking...

Happy Birthday, Joshua

One year ago today, I was in the hospital, cringing and gritting my way through Pitocin-induced contraction after contraction. I was thinking about that this morning as we walked to work. I cannot believe one year has already passed since that experience -- the excitement, the pain, the desperation for it to be over! And then, the tiny, slimy, squirming baby placed on my chest and me looking down at him in disbelief and wonder, and saying, "Happy birth-day, Joshua". One year later, a lot of it still makes me grit and cringe, but he is the most amazing, precious gift I have ever been blessed to have. Josh started walking last week, just in time to toddle his way into the one year celebration. We spent the weekend up at my aunt's farm, looking at the horses and cows, playing with his older cousins (who coloured his palms green with permanent marker), eating lots and lots of cake, making snowballs, and laughing and laughing. It was pretty awesome.

Happy birthday, my still-squirmy, sometimes slimy baby boy. You are the most wonderful thing in the world.