Things start getting really hard around this time of year. Mother’s Day is approaching, which is typically the worst day in my year, and the cheerful and sentimental advertisements start to grate me. My birthday follows shortly after, and then The Sunshine Princess has her birthday, then it’s The Angel’s, and two weeks after that is The Rainbow’s.
Birthday’s are hard. My birthday moves me another year in my life away from who I was before my daughter died. I know I have grown and I am a better person, in many, many ways, but I often miss my innocence. My living daughters’ birthdays are a complete scramble of feelings, pride, joy, gratefulness, and the sadness of what their sister will never be. And the anniversary of my middle daughter’s stillbirth? She’s 4 this year and it’s not any more acceptable to me that she’s gone. It’s not any easier, it’s nothing but an excruciating reminder that there was a day in my life where I held my newly born daughter dead in my arms.
Mother’s Day and all our birthdays fall within a 2.5 month block. This year that time period will include the finalisation of my divorce. It’s a couple of months that require a lot of emotional energy, and I feel as though I am going into underprepared.
I’m not well within myself at the moment, and there’s been a lot of external factors making life hard. My self care has been dangerously neglected and it’s taking a toll on my well being and the way I interact with others. I’m currently an absent friend and sometimes a less than delightful girlfriend.
I never anticipated that there would be a time in my life where there were situations that seemed bigger than my grief. It seemed that I would be invincible to so much more, because of what I had endured. But I’m finding I’m not invincible at all. I’m hurting. And I’m hurting over things that aren’t related to my daughter.
My perspective is skewed, and I feel out of align with myself. It seems strange after several years of direct and essentially basic grief to be struggling with pain that isn’t related to my child’s death. It was so much easier to be in turmoil over something so straightforward.
I’m working on making myself well again. It’s a conscious effort to change things in my lifestyle that aren’t serving me well.
I’m beginning with forgiving myself for not being invincible.
Painting The House Pink 