It’s not one thing
That makes me…
My life is a roller coaster, probably a lot like yours. Some days are up, others are down, and some are a little of both. Maybe the spinning of the Earth is at fault. They say the phases of the moon can affect a person’s mood. I’m sure of that. Or at least some outside force plays havoc with my emotions.
I hate that I can feel alone with people in the room. I despise loneliness. But I’d rather be alone than with a person who causes me pain. I’m easily influenced by another’s moods. Is that empathy or sympathy. I can never distinguish.
Living on a roller coaster is hard enough. But when the person you live with is also on a crazy ride, well that’s just disturbing. Especially when you’re empathetic. It’s like you have two sets of emotions that argue with each other. “I’m more depressed than you!” “I’m happy, why are you not?”
Well, enough ranting…
Where is my mind..?
Or rather, where am I in my mind
My mind is full of hallways and tunnels. Some are light, others dark. Some open, others blocked for my protection.
There’s an aching in my brain. Sometimes a door slams, a voice screams, a child giggles, a window breaks, a flower grows.
I can’t stop my mind from wandering up and down the shafts of memories. Good or bad. They come with me whether clear or fuzzy, black or white. And a memory isn’t always visual. they could be emotions or physical feelings. Like walking into a new place and the scent sparks a flame in my head.
“please be careful with me. i’m sensitive and i’d like to stay that way.” ~Jewel
I haven’t known a happy Easter in many years. One Easter I went to church and watched my little girl in the pageant while my other little one was tucked safely inside me, only 28 weeks old. I can remember thinking that someday, daughter #2 could be in the pageant too.
Well, life takes its twists and turns.
Little Maggie came too early on Easter Monday, she went straight to heaven before I could hear her cry or comfort her.
I will never forget certain moments of that week. Hearing the doctor say there was no heartbeat.
They asked me if there was any chance of domestic abuse.
Holding her tiny body and wishing she’d open her eyes.
The nurse telling me the state took my daughter’s tiny body. They wanted to do an autopsy to determine her death. I told them NO!
I can still feel my breasts being fully engorged the day we placed the little white coffin in the ground. My mother carried her to the grave.
I wonder if I should have let my other daughter see her before she was buried.
It’s all clear as day. The pain has lessened over the years. I don’t cry as much.
I will never have a truly happy Easter again though.