19 February 2016

So, this time of year is hard. Really, really hard. We're almost to the anniversary of Noah's death. Something great has been happening though. In the last few weeks I have actually WANTED to do things. There have been little events here and there (going to visit friends, helping with a foster care event) that I have genuinely WANTED to do, looked forward to, and enjoyed doing. That's big, I mean really big.

I really don't like talking about depression, anxiety and all that because I still (even after almost two years) haven't fully accepted and been kind to myself about it. I still have (what I know are incorrect) thoughts that this is all my fault and I need to just snap out of it, suck it up and get back to fully living life. Quit making excuses and just get back to it.
I put all of that on myself and then constantly worry that other people are losing patience with how unreliable I've been, how unwilling I am to do the extras, how difficult it is for me just to show up, to do even normal things like running errands. I know I should be kind and patient but most of the time...I feel like a failure, like a weak failure of a woman.

Add to all of that the guilt I still carry every day about Noah's death. "If I'd have done this differently, if we'd have been more insistent, if we'd have held on longer..." I have tried and tried to forgive myself and let go of that guilt but I'm nowhere near it yet. He was/is a sweet, tender little boy who should not have died.

I've been doing my best to make sense of all this, trying to grow and learn and be patient with and kind to myself, taking it all a day at a time. I've been able to find joy in little things and I've been sticking to the basics, the most important things in life. Then a few weeks ago I noticed I had gone a few places, seen a few friends without feeling at all like I had to drag myself around. I did it, I ENJOYED it and there were more things I was looking forward to. For a long time I've been going through the motions on nearly everything, just getting through and surviving, getting by with the bare minimum.

Yesterday I wasn't doing well. "Bad days" like that are exhausting and discouraging, especially after a string of really good days, but it was also a reminder of how far I've come recently. I'm really hopeful now that I'm slowly but surely progressing and healing. I know I'll still have really difficult days but feel like overall I'm both learning how to better cope and making progress toward healing.

It feels SO. GOOD. to actually want to do things. I feel hope returning, feel strength growing and joy building. I feel like I'm coming back but as a stronger, more compassionate, more empathetic, and overall better me.

Thank you to everyone who has been patient and understanding. :)

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