Time doesn't heal this

I'm having a rough day today. I don't know why. It's 17 months to the day since I buried my son, and here I am again, crying alone in the shower, in front of my computer, smoking in the garage, tears running down my face everywhere I go.

It just feels like each day brings added weight, not relief. That I'm losing Myles each and every day because as time moves forward, I move further away from him and my life as I knew it. I'm a shell of a my former self, bitter and sad.

Mother's day is coming up and I think Simone and I are just going to make some cards together. Me for my mom, her for me and maybe for Myles too if she wants. I wish I could go to the zoo to see the butterfly plaque my family got last November in honor of Myles, but Simone and I will go see it together soon if not on Monther's day. Simone never tires of remembering Myles, she'll love to see his name there with all the children and butterflies. Everything is so bittersweet. She wants to take the plaster casts of Myles' two hands and one foot to school. I don't know if I can do it, and I can't let her take them alone, but for her I'll try.

Sadly, Mother's day doesn't remind me of what it should; this time two years ago when I had my two children with me. I didn't know that was my only true Mother's day, the only one I'd ever have. Instead, the upcoming Mother's day reminds me of last year, and crying in the parking lot at Perkins as my first family betrayal scorched my already tattered heart. I didn't know I could hurt more than I had. What little I knew almost 6 months out.

The trauma of the first year weighs heavily on me the second. Time moves forward and everyone else forgets. Nobody lives with this daily as I do, nobody. Each year, you remember the last. Last year at this time I was so utterly lost, more than I could fathom. This year I'm here, but my life is on it's head. I feel so defeated. I didn't know I could feel more defeated than after I lost Myles, but the death of my marriage is it's own loss. 11 years together, 8 years of marriage on May 26th; this will be our first anniversary apart. Somehow, it seems like we're failing both our children.

Anyway, there is no point to this, just thinking, typing, rambling, crying, blowing my nose. I'm just worried about next month, and the old pain it will dredge up and the new losses I will have to deal with. I used to love May, once upon a time. I will somehow have to find the courage and strength within me to sustain me through the month ahead :(

Redemption

I've been in hell for the last 3 or 4 weeks, battling a depressive episode, working on my dissertation proposal, missing all the deadlines it seemed, and struggling to find the will or the energy to pull it together. While doing this, other drama weighed heavily, we lost the dogs (then found them), my stepdad may be very sick; I've just felt so helpless, hopeless, and alone.

On monday I passed my proposal defense (first 3 chapters of my diss.), and the positive response i got surpassed my wildest dreams. I got so many compliments they liked it 'as is' but had great suggestions. I could just about cry. I realized just how much i tear myself down in my own mind. I'm my own worst enemy.

So, there is the good news, my faith in my ability to do my job is returning. I feel redeemed.

My depression was better today, but here I am sleepless at 430am in limbo. I'm hoping to move back to home May 21st. It's my birthday and I can't think of a better present than being able to pick Simone up from her last day of school that day and just drive back, lol. Where we will live is yet to be seen. But at this point I don't care. I just miss Lincoln and so does Simone, so i want to make it happen very badly.

Anyway, just wanted to share some happy news, my actual dissertation and final defense do not feel near so intimidating, and that feels reassuring. With the response I got, I think things are going to work out well. Maybe I'll actually get my PhD after all?!

My shitty plan

Okay, the plan, moving back to my hometown, uh . . . not so good. I didn't realize that what I needed was my ideal family, not the one I have. Because the family I have are just are who they are; each their assets and faults. They don't have a magic wand. They can't be what I need when I need it. Because on a very fundamental level they don't understand.
And I shouldn't expect them too.

And when they say things, hurtful things, they think they're helping. It's a catch 22 as another bereaved parent described the phenemonen of familial anlienation after the death of a child. What they want to do to help, hurts. They're destined to do everything wrong. Because they just want the old you back, and they want to 'fix'. There is no fix.

Well, my family has done EVERYTHING wrong (cept sweet Heidi ;).
From micromanaging our lives, to saying I don't deserve my daughter, to saying I'm doing my son's 'legacy' a disservice, to telling me they understand exactly how I feel and Myles would want . . . (rip someone's fuckin head off). When I skipped Thanksgiving (Myles died on Thanksgiving) I was told to 'get with it'.
I think I've been criticized for everything you can be criticized for. And I miss Lincoln, and the drama with families (Brandon's families have been probably the biggest jerks but there is a good competition) and with B and I trying to figure out our shit, and parenting, and defending my diss. proposal (April 13th, yay), and working, and I'm just about ready to lose it.

When will I be back in my home? I think the most depressing part is I can't say. Simone has to finish school, she finishes on my bday, and I think that might be the magic day. But . . . only . . . if things pan out like they need to. And I have so little hope for the minor things. For big things? I don't think I have it in me.
Missing Lincoln, and Myles, and my sanity.