Every day is a constant struggle. A struggle to get out of bed, a struggle to fight the voices in my head and the white noises I hear constantly. Days where all I hear is kill yourself, your other kids would be better off without you. Other days I hear you are worthless just go away. It’s a constant struggle to not listen to these voices. 

I’ve had people tell me it wasn’t my fault, there’s nothing you could have done. That I’m punishing myself for the boys death. I slit my wrists after the boys died. I tried again later and had someone walk in and wrap my wrists and stay with me. It gets harder every day. 

Nothing can prepare you for the lose of your kids. Nothing can prepare you for that emptiness or guilt you feel. I keep saying what if I went to the Drs sooner would that have helped? What if I would have gone into the er sooner and not waited in my car for ten minutes for my scheduled time? 

I have the tattoo “Warr;or” on my arm, because the semi colon represents choosing to go on with your story. To not let your pain stop you. You can see the scars around it from where I have slit my wrist. There are times I want to cut it off because I don’t want to continue the daily fight. I don’t feel like I am this strong warrior people tell me I am all the time. 

My kids tell me all the time they love me and I’m the best. They tell me all the time they miss Thorin and Tristian. They hug me and kiss me and love on me. I feel guilty when I do, I feel like I’m going to forget the boys and that’s a harsh reality. 

It’s a daily struggle to get out of bed, to smile, to love, to try to heal. 


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