I admit the struggle has been so real when it comes to writing in this space I’ve created for myself. This past month or so I have not been doing great. August 28th it will be 1 year for the delivery that crushed my soul. More and more pregnancies are being announced; and while happy for those people, I feel myself souring and curdling a bit more each time. I know it’s not healthy, it’s not anyone’s fault that their organs work better than mine.
I know how immature and unreasonable my thoughts are…but I still feel them. I try not to linger to long on baby photos and ultrasounds or growing bellies because I simply am not in a place where I can do so without catapulting into crying episodes. I am being served an immense amount of humble pie; but my prideful mind is trying so hard not to swallow.
Emotionally I guess I feel stable…for the moment…but I still feel like there is something that lingers on the cusp of my sanity that I can’t quite define. I am used to depression’s frontal attacks; when it’s subtle and I can’t pinpoint it, I become very afraid. Usually when it manifests it is never a welcomed surprise.
I try to remain cognizant of the fact that I am merely a human. Perfection is not attainable at this time. My mind is flawed and will work against me. I cannot be super woman. I try my hardest to work around these imperfections though. I am not defeated at the moment…and I guess that’s something I should humbly appreciate.
Until next time