Anxiety Bereavement Family Health Moms Parenting Work life balance

Chandelier

December 12, 2016

Party girls don’t get hurt

Can’t feel anything, when will I learn…

This week is going to be hell. 
How can I survive Anthony’s 25 birthday? His first one in Heaven. 

I keep looking around at all the holiday lights and celebrations going on around me and I simply want to crawl in a hole. 

Be by myself.  

Fade away into a dark corner and just be quiet. 

I’m gonna swing from the chandelier, from the chandelier

I’m gonna live like tomorrow doesn’t exist

Like it doesn’t exist

I’m gonna fly like a bird through the night, feel my tears as they dry

I’m gonna swing from the chandelier, from the chandelier

I am trying so hard to keep it together.  However every time I looked into someone’s eyes today the tears welled up in mine.  

God I miss him!!!

Anthony will never be 25, or 30 for that matter.  He will never have a family of his own.  He will never feel the gut wrenching loss I feel now.  The nausea that I walk around with constantly, I thank God he will never experience it.  

He will never cry over a lost child.  He will never look in the mirror and ask “why take mine?”  He will never sit on the toilet and burst into tears. I do that a lot these days. Pants down around my ankles and all. Snotty nose and pee.  The sight is quite sad, far from pretty. 

But then, what is there left to be pretty for anyway?  It all feels so fake.  I get  dressed for the places I have to be dressed for.  I buy every freaking beauty product on the planet and throw it away. Nothing makes me feel good about myself.  I look in the mirror and see what’s broken. 

I no longer workout to have the “better body.”  Such a waste of time now. I exercise to simply breathe. Yoga and meditation are my saviors.

Sun is up, I’m a mess

Gotta get out now, gotta run from this…

I am truly grateful my husband tries to tell me I am beautiful.  He tells me he loves me infinitely and I am perfect just the way I am. 

I say “thanks,” but I do it simply to be polite.  I was always taught to accept a compliment, even if you don’t believe it. If I was perfect, I wouldn’t have lost my Anthony. I wouldn’t look at my other two surviving children and wish I could fix my broken life. 

I can’t wait to get home and wash this bullshit makeup off my face.  Scrub away the mask that hides my tears. 

And I’m holding on for dear life, won’t look down won’t open my eyes…

I know everyone has their issues… I am far from alone in the world.  The world of “parents who lost children” is quite a crowded place.  My bereavement groups and our daily influx of new members is a testament to the open inclusion of my new club.  Everyone is welcome.  

Sucks that we aren’t exclusive.  I would have ensured I failed my initiation.  Who am I kidding, so would every other parent in my group.  We all stare at a picture in a frame.  

We all wish for the “carefree” days of yesterday.  The days where we never imagined it would be our child who left this Earth. 

I’m gonna swing from the chandelier, from the chandelier
I’m gonna live like tomorrow doesn’t exist

Like it doesn’t exist

I’m gonna fly like a bird through the night, feel my tears as they dry

I’m gonna swing from the chandelier, from the chandelier…

I would give anything to feel carefree just once, for 5 minutes. Swing from that Chandelier. 

No I’m I’m just holding on for tonight

On for tonight, on for tonight…

I am trying to hold on, for dear life. 

He isn’t here for me to love.  

đź’‹~Miranda

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