Throughout this journey I have been unapologetically real about my grief.
I’ve said it over and over again, I want to be able to show others what it’s like to grieve your child. In my case my only child. I’m not crying for help or even wanting to be pitied for feeling how I do. This isn’t to get ‘likes’ or ‘views,’ this is real life. These are real emotions and thoughts. This is me trying to figure out how to live my life after loss. How to somehow accept that I have to live the rest of my life without the one little human I care more about than any other person.
This is hard.
And it’s not getting any easier with time passing by. The phrase ‘time heals everything’ is complete crap. I’m almost a year away from the last time I felt Jensen move, until the last-minute he was present on this earth. Somehow it’s already almost a year and when that year passes, I’ll have to gear up for year two and the rest of my life.
I’m absolutely terrified for what the future holds because I have no control over it at this point. Exhaustion cripples me every single day and I can’t think far enough ahead to articulate what I need to do to help future Danielle. For a person that likes being in control, these waters are scary. I’m literally swimming with the two meanest sharks I’ve encountered: grief and depression.
Honestly, I’m not sure if this gets any better for me. I know I’m not comfortable with this grief. Every morning when I wake up, it just sits so heavily on my chest. For almost eleven months, I haven’t even been able to take a deep breath. Not that I would even pause to let myself take one. Every second of the day, I’m always moving. Trying to outsmart grief and depression because I don’t want to face them. These thoughts I have are drowning me and if I stop to think and really focus on them, they actually will.
With all my might, I’m not allowing myself to go down that rabbit hole (or shark’s mouth, whatever metaphor works).
If I go down that hole, I’m afraid I won’t come back out. I don’t feel strong like Alice or any shark hunter to claw back to the surface. Maybe it’s not the fear of rising back out, it’s more of being terrified to see who I really am. Learning how to love myself through this has not been easy. It’s not been fun to love a body that betrayed me and the thoughts that tear me down. There’s fear in never finding joy within myself again. I’m terrified that Jensen wouldn’t even like or love me with the person I’ve become. Just thinking about falling down and having to decide whether I get up or stay down there exhausts me.
I don’t know where I”m at with my life right now and I’m not ready to decide. Each step I take is weak and questionable, but on the bright side, I’m taking them.
Another child or getting into a new relationship is not going to help me right now. It’d only complicate things way worse. Heck, I don’t even like myself how could a partner or another child want to be around me? I’m not upset with this. I don’t want these things. The two constants I’ve had in this journey have been Jensen and myself. And although I’m not comfortable in my grief, I have to find joy in myself. Outside forces aren’t going to magically make me better.
I’m trying to love this new Danielle with self-care and being Jensen’s mom. The fact that I have to live my life for Jensen keeping me going. There is nothing wrong with that fact and it doesn’t make my life less.