My loves would be 9 months old celebrating their first turkey genocide day.
That’s 9 months
273 Days.
39 Weeks
6570 hours
394200 minutes
I wasn’t even pregnant for the whole 9 months and that’s what you’d be. I’ve grown to really not like holidays. There are so much you boys would be doing. The first of so many things. It literally hurts my heart.
I put on a smile and I laugh with my kids so they don’t worry. I smile for people so they don’t ask me. I started therapy and in the first 10 minutes I started sobbing. I broke down and just cried. I feel like I can’t do that anywhere else.
I cry in the shower or when people can’t see me but that’s about it. Ive had breakdowns and times where I wanted to just end it. It’s hard. It gets harder every day. My therapist says this is a long healing process and that I won’t forget this pain that I feel.
I want it to go away, I don’t want to remember any of this that I feel. But I’m afraid it is something I will live with for the rest of my life. I just want to stop crawling in a hole and wanting to die. But it feels like to much to ask for.
Starting new meds is scary as well… will I Be homicidal or suicidal again because of them? Will it even help? I’m supposed to write in this and write new songs to help with copping. Which works a lot. The group I’m singing for probably thinks I am crazy with how emotional my songs are. But, hey… whatever helps right?
windandthewolf 