It's true. I'm still here. Still here in the grieving. Trying to deal with what life brings and walking a life with a piece of my heart missing.
I've wanted to write, just haven't had the words to express where I'm at. Which I'm not entirely sure where that is either.
I'm stuck. Those are the only words I can think of that can explain where I stand.
I have dreams.
Don't know how to get there. Or maybe I'm just too chicken shit to take the steps. I want to be bold yet fear takes over and squeezes with great force.
I envision the mom I want to be. Yet I still yell at the girls for the stupidest things, then feel horrible.
I want to grieve.
Yet I feel I'm in a choke hold and feel I can't breath long enough to let it go.
When I can grieve, it's never enough. Never satisfying. An addiction I guess. I cry. feel better for a bit then look to cry again just to lift the weight a pinch.
Life gets in the way of grieving. Hard to find the balance between reality and a fantasy.
...a never ending balancing act between my child who isn't here and my family who is.