Here is to another Friday. Another day that hurts my heart. So many things have been going on that I can’t wrap my head around. I feel like I’m loosing my mind. I’m fighting with people who don’t want to fight with me. I’m being a bitch and salty and just mean.
I feel bad about all of it. I moved back in with my parents and that’s a seriously hard thing to deal with. I picked my kids up and moved them to my mom and dad’s place. I feel okay one second, depressed one second, and then I’m a raging bitch the next.
When I feel happy I feel guilty and I tear myself down. It’s like I can’t let myself feel something other then pain. I laugh then make myself cry. I cry and I get angry because I feel like my boys would want me to be happy and not grieve 24/7. But there is so much grief I’m feeling that I can’t see straight.
I have people who love me and will do anything for me and it feels like I’m letting them down because how I feel. I’ve been told it gets harder before easier but it feels like there’s not rainbow at the end of this storm. I still ask myself everyday why. Why take my boys? Why break my heart? Why make my life so hard? Why make me so empty?
I’m writing these blogs every Friday due to the fact that they passed away on a Friday and Fridays are literally the hardest days of my life. The kids and I are joining the bus next month and I’m terrified that I’m going to be so negative on Fridays that I’ll end up just coming home and I don’t want that.
I’m happy, I’m angry, I’m sad, I’m emotional, I’m fucking skitzo and I’m pretty sure my bi polar is getting worse. Gotta love having those genes run in the family. Thank you dad’s birth mom. I’m crazy because of you. 😂
70 days, 100800 minutes, 6048000 since I’ve held you. Since I’ve loved on you. I just want to hold you. Be with you. Mother you. Raise you. I know you’ll be reborn. I know I’ll see you again. But it doesn’t change the fact that I held you and you weren’t breathing. That when you took your last breath a part of me died.