Much of the content may be a bit dark, but it is not necessarily in chronological order. There are no dates, because I don't think it matters if I wrote it 3 years ago or yesterday. I decided to write for me and I know most of the time I feel like writing is when I have something I need to process or work through; this is really my only place to come to and release.

I am not miserable, I am just healing.


On Feb 10th, my one and only grandpa passed away. On Feb 11th, my water broke and on Feb 13th, I brought my newest son into the world.

Sometimes, the universe doesn't care if we get a chance to catch our breath.

Today, my grandpa... the man that was there for me and my 
siblings (which were not his by blood), treated us as all equally his, and always loved each of us the same... the man that spoke to me about my dad when no one else would, and when my dad wasn't there to speak for himself... Today, he is being put to rest. And I will not be there.

Because the universe never gives me a chance to catch my breath.

I haven't said anything to most people about losing him, and even moreso I have failed to even talk about it within my own head and heart. I wanted my son to be born into as much good as I could muster up for him, so I tucked away the hurt and tears and loss. I stopped crying long before my crying was done, and I trucked on like I always do. Every  once in a while, I forget to forget, and the knowledge that I am losing both of my most important, and only surviving, grandparents at nearly the same time surges up like a tidal wave.

And I swallow it, and all of the life choking sea water that comes with it. No time for catching breaths.

My son is beautiful. And a little sick. I am the only one that can make him better right now, so every single doctor's appointment feels like a mixture of wanting him to get better and hoping I am not failing. And then I come home and feel like if I want to do this right, I have to fail at something else. Because I am mortal, and making my baby better means not getting sleep, being sore, and being stuck in one spot most of the time. I am human, and those things just don't coexist with also getting the house cleaned up, keeping up with the laundry, making sure my partner feels special, and taking care of myself. I don't even know what that last one looks like anymore.


I am sad... not because sometimes women get sad after they have babies, but because people get sad when they lose people, and when they are preparing to lose more people... I am sad because I cannot do all that I need to, when I need to, for everyone that I need to. I am sad that those close to me say they understand... but then act as if they understand nothing at all because they didn't realize it would be what they need/want from me that was going to suffer. They understood the words I was saying, but were not prepared to act as one does when they put themselves aside for someone else currently suffering.

Sometimes, holding your breath is easier than trying to catch it. So, you hold it and wait for the wave to pass.

On Feb 19th, my friend's son passed away from pediatric cancer. My heart is shattered for them. And somewhere, living in another box, is knowing that I could have been them. In that box lives relief and gratitude. And I feel guilty for having those feelings while they are going through hell. You can't really describe to someone else how much of a battle it is in your heart when you feel guilty for the times you did get to breathe. How suffocating it is to not even deserve the breaths you fought to take, let alone the ones you can't get a grasp on.

There is a laundry list, right now, of things weighing so heavily on me... from the fact that my oldest dog seems to be in  pain and I can't afford to do anything about it, to the uncertainty of my education/career, and everything in between.

But I am missing my grandpa's funeral.

And I can't seem to breathe.

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