We're nearly a week into April now. This sinking into darkness thing that I did especially well this March should be done with. The sun is shining, the birds are chirping. And I'm still wallowing here in my darkness, trying to crawl out of it, but sinking further down with every step, sleeping most of the day that i'm not working, trying not to feel anything at all. Searching for that numbness, because I can't help this pathetic feeling. I can't stop replaying the image of me walking out of that hospital, childless, looking forward, and with that whole event in my past. I want to stop in front of myself. Scream in my face. What the hell are you doing. Why are you leaving this hospital without your kid? Are you freaking nuts? But I can't. I can't do any of that. All I can do is watch, while I walk out of the hospital.
It's like I'm stuck in a Christmas carol, stuck with the ghost of birthdays past. Or course where else would I be? There are no birthdays present. And I don't dare dream of birthdays future. At least not any where my existence is of any matter.
Then there's the email. The email from a few years back. When my world came crashing in. When I realized that they wouldn't be happy to see me if only they were in the country. Because they were in the country when they used those so carefully thought out phrases. "you're a very special part of J's past." That's where I am. And that's where I'll stay. I have no other choice. Somehow, I need to forgive myself. Somehow, I need to not be trapped on that day, watching 17 year old Jessika walk out of the maternity ward, with newborn J still stuck there. If somebody can tell me how to get out of that, I would be forever grateful. But for now, I guess I'll just continue trying to climb out of this deep pit of depression. But every step forward simply leads to ten steps back.
It's like I'm stuck in a Christmas carol, stuck with the ghost of birthdays past. Or course where else would I be? There are no birthdays present. And I don't dare dream of birthdays future. At least not any where my existence is of any matter.
Then there's the email. The email from a few years back. When my world came crashing in. When I realized that they wouldn't be happy to see me if only they were in the country. Because they were in the country when they used those so carefully thought out phrases. "you're a very special part of J's past." That's where I am. And that's where I'll stay. I have no other choice. Somehow, I need to forgive myself. Somehow, I need to not be trapped on that day, watching 17 year old Jessika walk out of the maternity ward, with newborn J still stuck there. If somebody can tell me how to get out of that, I would be forever grateful. But for now, I guess I'll just continue trying to climb out of this deep pit of depression. But every step forward simply leads to ten steps back.
