Day After Day

I wrote this blog on Tuesday 6th September 2011, after I'd lost Josiah on 30th June 2011. It's quite dark, depressing and raw.

In posting this publicly, I aim to hit someone in the heart. Someone who needs a light in their darkness. If you're feeling like this now, please, please realise that with the right support, you will come out of the darkness. This support doesn't always come in the form of face to face communication. My support network was found online. Two women in particular whom it met online pulled me through my darkest moments, without even realising it.

We are not alone in our pain. We're all here with open arms and ears. All you have to do is reach out. If you need to talk, search for Three Whispers of Hope on Facebook. Don't be afraid.

"Each morning I hear the alarm beep at me. Once I switch it to snooze, the heaviness of the day ahead starts to set in. I don't want to open my eyes. I want to keep my body in the state of nothingness that it was before I heard the alarm. The simple task of sitting up seems too difficult. The simple tasks of showering and dressing myself seem too difficult. 

I eventually pull myself up, and push myself into preparing myself for the day ahead.

Once in the car, driving to work, I play songs on my stereo, some that I know will make me cry. For some reason though, I feel I need to do this. Maybe it is because for so long now, I haven't allowed myself to cry over anything at all. 

I pull up at work, and my stomach twists. I know now that I must put on my "happy face", and when asked how I am this morning, I must force myself to say "fantastic". Every day is the same. I hate saying "I'm fantastic" or "I'm great". I know it is a lie. I know everyone knows I am lying. But if I tell them I am not ok, what will their response be? Probably just some disappointing comment that will infuriate me. So best to pretend for now I am great.

Once inside and all settled at my desk, I cannot wait to start the work in front of me. Unfortunately though, one of my best/worst traits is that I do work quite quickly. So before the clock even hits 11am, I have finished the bulk of my work, only to be left staring blankly at the computer screen. And this, is where I start falling.

My mind starts wandering. First I think of what day of the week it is. Then I think about which day of the week I lost you. Then I think about how many weeks I would have been. How big would my tummy be now? I pick up my phone, I check my "BabyBump" App. I look at the photo of what you're meant to look like at the moment. I read about what amazing things your body is meant to be doing this week. Then I count how many weeks it has been since you left your mummy. Now I start replaying the events of that dreaded day and evening in my mind. What did I do that may have caused this? Did I eat something wrong? Did I not rest enough? I try to tell myself none of that would have mattered nor made this happen, but I don't believe myself. 

I'm tired of telling myself lies. "I'm tough", "I can do it on my own", "It just wasn't meant to be". Rubbish. All rubbish. The daily lies I tell myself are wearing thin. More often than not these days, the lies don't even surface. It's just blank and blatant truth.

The truth is, I will never know exactly why you left me. I will never know why your two Angel Sisters left me either. I can't even find comfort in knowing you three are together. My selfishness tells me this is just not enough. I want you here with me. I want to smell you, to touch your soft skin, to hear you cry and to look into your beautiful eyes. I hate my life without you and nothing can replace you.

By the time I have finished work, I am so mentally and emotionally drained, I am not even sure how I managed to drive the car home. Some days I worry that I am so tired, that I might have an accident and hurt someone else. I park the car in the sidestreet, and slowly walk around to the house. I dread this house. I dread every part of it right down to the front door and the annoying sound of the barking dogs that come from it. So I quickly go inside, and lock myself away in my room immediately. I only surface for a toilet stop or a shower. Here in this room, I lay staring at the ceiling. I start to think about the day I've had, and realise it was no different from the last. I'm not progressing at all. The tears are saturating my face and neck by now. The howling becomes uncontrollable.

The hatred for myself and my body are so intense I just want to evaporate into the atmosphere around me.

I know this is not possible. I know I cannot disappear. So instead I take the emotional pain out on myself in other ways. I'm not eating. When I do, my tummy bloats, which then makes me look pregnant, which then in turn reminds me of you. So I stop eating again. I don't sleep, because when I close my eyes, I think of you, my baby's. When things get really bad, I get in the car and drive. No destination. I just drive. Eyes filled with tears. I can barely see the road as I scream at the top of my lungs. A big part of me hopes I crash into a building and that I never wake up again. I just want to die.

My arms are filled with cuts. My head is filled with negative and sad thoughts. My heart is aching. My body is becoming numb.

How long can I keep doing day after day? It seems not much longer."