I don’t want to move today. I’m laying by the pool at my sister’s house and all I can think about is grass. I want to go somewhere else to be by myself and lay in grass. Somewhere quiet. By myself.
It’s not a good day. I have anxiety and feel guilt. We had a fabulous day yesterday. We sat and talked about Bella and I felt normal, just for a little while. And I feel guilty today that I felt normal, even if it was just for a little while.
I’m back to feeling a numbing pain throughout my entire body. It envelops me and I want nothing more than to let it take me away. And the guilt has returned, but today it’s because I’m here visiting family yet I just want to be alone.
My grief comes in waves. I have good days and bad ones, but I’ve come to realize that I try to sort my emotions into boxes and leave it there until I have the time and ability to sort through the mess and feel the pain. I leave it for days I am alone.
I do this as an effort to be the best mother I can be to Hudson. But on days like this, I don’t want to open a box and sort through, I would rather jump into the box and hide there. It’s days like this that I feel I won’t come back from, but the wave will rise, then fall. And it will crash, but it’s those hard crashes I fear the most. So I don’t let the crash come. Instead, the wave will recede once more and I pick myself up, dry myself off, put the box back on the shelf and leave it there until I feel I have the time to sort through it.
I think my family worries because I refuse to deal with these feelings on the days I feel them. They tell me I need to verbalize my needs and allow myself to feel the pain when it comes. But it’s not convenient today. So I will repress it and save it for a better day. Maybe.