Force

This is a life I did not chose It is a life I can’t escape.

I feel FORCED to live with this. Life dealt this to me and I can’t prevent it I have to deal with this I have to see it to the end somehow some way.

I have to do this by doing constantly. Keeping busy at all times. No unplanned days wandering round finding something to do. Instead I need to pack my days tight so I don’t have time to think.

I have to protect myself as best I can by avoiding what I find hard to deal with. I don’t need to feel guilty or forced to be ok. I need my time to deal with it how I need to. I left a group early today because the word baby was said too many times. I’m not some weirdo who thinks baby shouldn’t be said but you know those times when you considered people don’t know how to utter a sentence without including the same word. It was one of those days. Then everyone sat around with their babies. That should be me I should have my baby on my knee. But instead she was behind the building I was in, in her forever bed.

I had to leave for self preservation. Not a single person there was considering Elva was close by. It tortures me almost knowing she’s so close but incredibly far away too.

To get up daily and face the word. To smile with my children, to laugh, to enjoy then in the next instance to cry it does take strength to do this. It takes strength to act opposite ends of the emotional spectrum. Every day is spent fighting back tears when its not appropriate, feeling that deep sickness of guilt and loss. Then when the tears flow it takes the last ounce of strength to claw our way back up, back to putting that face on, back to guiltily enjoying things without my baby here.

It may seem like I’m a mess and probably deep down I am, but at the same time I’ve continued. Four months I’ve lived without my daughter. That’s 4 more months than I thought I would survive, because you do somehow think you will spontaneously cease from the pain, but you don’t. You keep standing, you keep fighting and trying. You keep surviving and one day you will live again.

So when you look and wonder when will she smile again, when will she stop looking like a haunted soul. The answer is probably never because always there is a voice going it should have been this way. Instead look and continue what strength you’re witnessing, consider what she’s hiding away and living with daily. Consider looking her in the eye and imagining what she’s thinking and maybe you could tell her you know what she must be thinking. You don’t know how it feels but you know she’s hurting and you’re there.

tracy

 

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