There seems to be no shortage of things that remind me my baby died. Everywhere I look, in everything I see, hear, taste, feel...there is something. The list is infinite, it seems. Some moments I ache to repeat, and therefore look forward to the reminders. Other moments I ache to forget...so try to close my eyes or plug my ears in an effort to ignore them. I have very few "new" moments that I actually look forward to, like a normal person would.
Normal people get up in the morning and look forward to what new things they will think, accomplish or experience. I get up in the morning and wonder how this day will somehow relate back to that horrible day in May. I worry that I will break down somewhere inappropriate. I worry that I will say the wrong thing to someone and cause hurt feelings or anger. I worry that there will be no happiness in my day at all...or that there will be and that will somehow be unfaithful to my dead son. There is nothing that isn't related to grief or sadness.
I'm so tired of this...and I'm so tired of myself in the middle of this. I want to wake up in the morning feeling excited to face a new day. I want something that isn't tainted by this horror. I want some joy...some peace. The universe owes me...and I intend to collect. I just don't know how.