It seems I've been here before...this time, this place, this feeling. I posted something a year ago titled, "Second verse, same as the first." And here I am...not so very far from that place at all...but a million miles from the place I was two years ago. How did an entire year go by without me?
I want to feel like I'm a part of life again...not just a part of the same old refrain sung over and over without any sense of emotion. I long for that feeling of unbridled joy that could elicit dancing or singing without prior warning (and people need prior warning if I'm going to sing or dance...because it is a scary scary thing). I miss being happy and I feel guilty for it.
I stare at their pictures on my wall and think how beautiful they were. Our babies. But they are gone and I am tired of missing them. What the hell kind of mother am I? Don't bother me kid, you're dead.
Sam's preschool Halloween party was fun only because I drank beforehand. No, I'm kidding, I didn't drink beforehand (though I really don't understand mulled cider that doesn't have a kick...blech). But I did steel myself to go into the party as that other person...the one who hasn't been through all this crap these past two years. And I had fun despite running literally face first into tiny babies who were born about the same time Travis should have been born. The little lady bug and the little lion costumes brought a smile at the time. I am inordinately proud of myself for holding it together.
But now the tears fall freely. I suppose it's some sort of delayed reaction intended as a defense mechanism. Personally, I wish it would stop with the giant mind-f***. It is impossible to work or get anything productive done when you don't know if you're going to burst into tears for a reason that may have occurred several days ago.
I want off this roller coaster. And even the decision not to talk TTC for the rest of the home renovation period has not meant I'm allowed to disembark from the ride. It seems the hills and valleys are taken at a slower speed that is much less vomit-inducing, but they are still there just has high and low as ever. I second-guess myself and wonder if there will ever be a time when life is good...just good...no strings...no qualifiers.
I am still stuck with the questions I asked the pastor during the planning for Alex's funeral...How do I just go on? Am I supposed to act like nothing has changed? How do I do that? How could God let this happen to us? Two years and I am no closer to any answers.
I so desperately want to sing a different tune. Because this one is old and sad and starting to wear thin on my nerves. (Don't ya just love a mixed metaphor at the end of a really bad post?)