It's basically sleep until I want and then not sleep at night. Night has become my time to reflect. To think and mourn and feel sorry for myself. It's depressing.
I've been trying to focus on the good things and look toward the future, but right now all I see is the dense fog that it's hiding behind. My vision is blurry and it gets easy to lose myself to it.
I used to enjoy so many different things. Going out and doing something everyday. Painting or drawing or writing. Ever since he left, I've seemed to have lost my muse. I found myself trying to recapture those moments, but they just leave me empty.
As I stare at the blank piece of cloth paper in front of me, all I can do is resist the urge to pick up a black pencil and just scribble on the page until I no longer see white.
So I've taken to trying to focus on what I do have. I've been going to see Mema more and that's made all the difference in the world to her. And I've been spending all my spare time caring for the kittens and my boys.
Oh how they've grown now. Each and every one of them showing off their newfound personalities and becoming more active and adventurous and daring.
It's become bittersweet actually, watching these little lives form and mold themselves as they grow more and more each day. I can't help but be reminded about what has been taken away from me.
Instead of seeing them, I see the babies that I never had the chance to have or meet. I missed getting to feel them grow inside of me and the sheer joy of finally seeing them when they are born. All the milestones they would have had.
They would have been turning four at the end of March/beginning of April.
I feel like that was my one and only chance of having a child and it disappeared before I could even truly process what was happening.
I do take joy in watching my "surrogate" children/nieces and nephews grow. Connor, who I used to keep for days on end, became the filler in that gap until my stepmom (thus including my father) got jealous of him calling me mommy put a stop to that.
Now I enjoy watching the twins grow and play and learn to talk and I can't help but sometimes wanting to pretend that their mine. Only in my minds eye of course because I know that's weird. I take joy in them getting so excited to see me and calling me Nanny. It makes me feel special and wanted and needed. It makes me feel like I actually matter to someone other than my cats.
I also have my family, of course; and my friends who I have always considered my family. Really, right now, I don't know where I would be without them.
I have always been the one to bend over backwards for anyone. Offer help and advice to anyone who needed it with no questions asked. It's an odd feeling being on the recording end for once. I'm not really used to someone being concerned about me or calling in to check on me. They've always said I love you, but to me I've never felt it until now. It's a feeling that almost brings me to my knees due to the intensity of it.
I am so grateful for it because if I didn't have that right now, I can almost promise I would be six feet under cause my world is crumbling and it's hard to stand under the weight of it all.
So when I say I love you to them, it's not because I'm in love with you, but because I am just blown away by the support they have shown me and the new outlook on life they have unconsciously helped me find.
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