The Worst Year of My Life

Where do I begin? I guess I should start at the beginning of the year. Things were going really well. I was doing the ketogenic diet and feeling the best I’ve ever felt in my adult life. I had a great job with Chick-Fil-A corporate as a traveling Trainer, and we had just gotten our first apartment together since we got married. Life was pretty great. Now, as some of you know, Daniel and I had tried to have kids for several years and had been totally unsuccessful with no real answers as to why. Last year around this time I decided to stop focusing on that and simply focus on myself. So even that wasn’t a big deal.

Well in January I found out I was pregnant and lost the baby within the first month. That sent me into a deep depression. Miscarriage has always been my biggest fear and I never could imagine how I’d ever get through that if it happened to me, and then it did. I felt like a piece of me died with the baby. I only told a handful of people, and had (still do have) a very hard time vocalizing it at all. I didn’t want to talk about it or admit it. I felt shame and heartbreak and extreme loss. I don’t feel I ever fully recovered from it. That was the beginning of my downward spiral.

The following months were a blur, honestly. I stopped losing weight and fluctuated between a week of eating right and being in relatively good spirits, to eating terribly and feeling utterly depressed. The only positive thing in my life at that time was my job. I had left Chick-Fil-A and started as a nanny. That actually helped me keep my mind off of the fact that I myself am not a mother, and I was able to pour myself into the beautiful boy I nanny. However, it didn’t help me deal with my emotions surrounding the whole ordeal, therefore they are still not dealt with and have just continued to build up.

Fast forward to July. I had an “unusual period”, which turned out to be another miscarriage. After that, I think I resigned in my mind to never have kids. Something inside of me said “don’t ever try again, you’re not meant to be a mother.” I was completely broken, but tried my best to keep myself together. I poured myself into my job, and helping others through their problems, all the while my own issues have been festering under the surface.

I stopped doing everything I loved to do. Writing, singing and song writing, bullet journaling, fitness and good diet, hanging out with friends, etc. Nothing seemed important anymore. Instead I started an unhealthy disassociation from reality. I would allow hours to pass while I mindlessly did something that didn’t matter, while letting everything that did matter pile up in the background. Bills needed paying? I’ll get to it later. Dishes needed washing? Not important. Sleep? Nah. I started going to see tons of movies because I could disengage with life and engage the screen and whatever storyline was playing out.

This has continued but gotten worse. Now I don’t even engage with people I love. People text and call me and leave voicemails and I don’t respond. I know if I do, I’ll either have to lie and say “I’m fine” or I’ll have to tell them the truth. The truth hurts way too much. I feel like I got sucked into a black hole and I can’t find my way out. Some days I am so overcome with emotion that I can’t function, and other days I am desensitized to everything. I literally don’t know who I am anymore or what I want. I don’t recognize myself in the mirror, and that’s the scariest thing. I hate being a burden to those I love, and sometimes I feel life would be better without me in it. Don’t worry, I’m not gonna kill myself, but sometimes I feel like a wasted energy in this world; like I’m taking up too much space.

I don’t like asking for help, which may be why it’s taken me this long to say anything. But I need help. I don’t feel like I can even hold the weight of existing alone anymore. It’s heavy and it hurts and I don’t know what to do. At this very moment I’m contemplating erasing all of this and just staying in my black hole. It’s embarrassing to be this weak.

I had something of an emotional or mental breakdown a couple of weeks ago. I didn’t want to exist anymore, and I had a sudden fear that maybe I’m actually going crazy. Maybe I have a mental problem and I should check into a hospital. I don’t know. All I know is that I’m not myself and I don’t even slightly know how to find her again. I’m crying now, cause I miss the old me. She was happy, despite the many problems. I’m not even a shadow of her anymore. I feel like maybe she’s gone forever and I’ll have to contend with what’s left, and I really don’t know if I have the strength for it much longer.

For those wondering “what the heck, I had no idea it was this bad.” Don’t feel bad. I’m really really good at hiding now. I have a mask that I wear when I leave my house so that no one will know how empty I really am, or the scars and the tears. I just don’t want to be a burden in anyone’s life. I know everyone goes through their own issues, and I don’t want to add mine to the pile. But I need some real help, and honestly I need to know that I’m not alone, because I’ve never felt this alone in my entire life. I am considering seeking out some professional help, like a therapist. My problem right now is that I just don’t know what to do with myself and how to get back what I’ve lost.

In truth, the last few years haven’t been a cake walk. I know I opened up this blog post talking about how great last year was, and the last few months of the year were better than the last theee years. However, ever since Jonathan passed away, I just haven’t been the same. Things have changed so much, and I suppose what I truly long for is some stability and peace. I feel like things are just always changing, and not for the best. I always end every year with a hopeful joy that the next year will be better, and it just hasn’t been that way.

Someone once told me, once you’ve experienced a deep sadness or grief, whenever you go through something challenging, it can bring those feelings up to the surface and almost mimic that grief. That’s what it has felt like over the last 3 years. That pain and sadness I felt when Jonathan passed away, I felt it 10 times over twice more this year with my miscarriages. I feel a similar feeling when I lose friends or a job or a dream. It all just feels like a jumbled mess in my mind. I hope I can figure it out, because I can’t imagine living the rest of my life experiencing that grief and loss over and over.

It’s That Time of Year Again....

Y’all, it’s been a hot minute since I wrote. Life is just so different now. Nothing is the same anymore. I can recall a time in my life when writing was the center of my universe. My journal was the place I went to free my thoughts and become self aware and encourage myself to keep going, no matter the struggle. That time in my life feels so far away, yet so attainable even now.

It’s the small decisions I’ve made, like not writing, that have made huge impacts in my life. It was hard for me to be self aware after Jonathan passed away, because that meant that I would have to face the fact that I was mad at God. I didn’t want to be, so I pretended like I wasn’t. I just stopped writing because I couldn’t write if it wasn’t the truth, but the truth was too painful to write. I couldn’t read my Bible for the same reason. It was just too painful.

It’s been 2 and a half years since he passed away, and although I’m not in the same place I was that first year, it is still a struggle for me to read the Bible continuously, and I don’t write anymore. I have a Bullet Journal, but that’s mostly an outlet for my creativity and it helps me plan my days, weeks and months. I don’t use it to write anything personal (except for my gratitude log). Anyone who knew me when I was a teenager or young adult, would be shocked to find out how little I write and read these days.

In those days, you would never have seen me without a journal, a pen and a book. I was self aware and hopeful to learn about the world and the past. Hopeful. I don’t even know the meaning of that word anymore. It isn’t apart of my daily vocabulary. That’s not to say that I am stuck in some depressed hole. Life is getting better! I am trying to better my health and I’ve lost 25 pounds, and I think this next year is going to be a good one. I don’t want this post to make everyone think I live a terrible life. I don’t. There are many many things I wish I could change, and some things I do regret, but life goes on and I think it will get better.

But.

There always is a but isn’t there?

I came here to share some real truths with y’all. Amidst the “life will get better”, there are some real hurts that I’m working through. Lies that I have believed for a long time, that always feel so true at this time of the year.

My husband and I just shared our 4 year wedding anniversary. 4 years really isn’t that long when you look at the grand scheme of life and how many years the typical person lives. We could, respectively, share 50-70 more years together (I hope and pray). What is 4 years compared to that? A tiny drop in the ocean.

And yet.

It feels like forever. Before I ever met Daniel I knew I wanted to be a mom. When we got married I thought it would happen immediately. It didn’t. 4 years later, and I’m not sure how to feel. There are many explanations, and it could be a simple fix, but it doesn’t take away the feeling of inadequacy.

This time of year used to be my favorite. Christmas time is just so magical (and it still is, in a different way). But I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that it’s slightly tainted. You see, for the past 3 years I have hoped that I would get pregnant around this time so that I could surprise Daniel and the rest of my family with the best Christmas news! “We’re pregnant”! Can you imagine the joy on that Christmas morning? Honestly, I’m crying just thinking about it now.

But every year it turns out to be a pipe dream. It isn’t real. Every December when that dreaded period shows up, I feel that loss and deep sadness. I feel it every month at the same time, but December is different. I realize that it’s been another year without the dream being fulfilled and without the joy and hope of bringing a child into this world.

It’s not just because I WANT a child. I do, of course. But you have to really know my husband to understand: he would be the most amazing father. I can’t inagine anyone being a better father than him. Together I think we would raise amazing children. Enlightened, loving and thoughtful children. And I just know that they would be talented beyond belief! We would help the world by providing such amazing children to help bring along change, I just know it.

But. Here we are. Once again. It’s that time of year, and although I have my beautiful family and wonderful husband, I feel a tiny emptiness. Something tugging at me. I wish it would stop, because it hurts so much. But I never want it to stop, either. Because I’m supposed to be a mother and Daniel is supposed to be a father, and if we have to struggle for years and years, I’ll do it. Because I never want to stop wanting children.

So merry Christmas, friends! Who knows? Maybe next year will be our year!