Blog Neglect -or- Eight Months

I have been neglecting my blog. Partially because the world has been so crazy and chaotic that I haven't had time, and partially because every time I start a post, I almost immediately burst into tears as the thoughts come rolling in that I've worked so hard to suppress as we've been trying to climb the mountain of debt and disaster that seems to be our way of life now.

But, today no such thoughts could be suppressed.  Today is the 18th.  Today is eight months since my baby was taken away from me, and the thoughts seemed to have gathered strength from the weeks of being forced to the back, and they quite literally wooped my ass today (sorry for the language,) as they do every month on this day.  From the 11th to the 26th of every month really, but more so on the 18th than any other day.

Today, like any other 18th, I avoided clocks. I hate clocks this day. I avoided any body of water.  I would generally have avoided the entire east side of town, but I work there now, so that wasn't happening.  I changed the radio station at work a lot to avoid songs that would completely disintegrate my composure.  I avoided little kids, which is an incredible task when working at a gas station. I avoided life today. In any possible way I could.

Isn't that sad?

I never wanted this life.  I never wanted to have to avoid things, or worry about things, or lose sleep at night over things. I used to enjoy music, movies, talking with random little kids and hearing all their cute little kid quirky words.  I used to compare notes with other parents about how their kids and mine were learning words, or so well behaved, or any number of other things.  I never wanted to feel like I had to avoid LIFE. And LIVING. And ENJOYING these little things that I used to enjoy. What kind of a life is it, anyway, to have to avoid the things you used to love?  As if losing her wasn't tragic enough, to lose her AND all these other things...and people wonder why I'm so different than I used to be.  Losing Khyri literally changed every single aspect of my life. The foods I eat, the places I go, the movies I watch, the clothes I wear. Every.single.thing.breaks.my.heart.  Especially on the 18th. Especially this morning.

I haven't been able to get up early since it happened. I had to get up at 5:30 on October 18th, 2014, so that I could get my kids up and ready, have them to daycare by 6:45 and have my butt to work by 7.  Today, for the first time since that day, I was up at 5:30.  And I couldn't go back to sleep. I tried. I didn't want to be up, I wanted to make it past the time that was "normal" then, because it's somehow easier that way. Not today. And it made the whole day hurt so much more.

And the thoughts that I couldn't fight off today...thoughts of the water, of the phone calls, of rushing to the ER, of watching her take her last agonal breath and watching the monitors stop. Of holding her and rocking, laying on the bed with her, walking her out to that stupid f***ing white van. I wish I had rode with her, I just couldn't...it was too much...but oh how I wish I had.

I just want it to stop. I don't want it to be eight months, I don't want it to be eight seconds. I don't want this life. This is horrible. And I want everything to go back to how it was.

But it won't.
It can't.
It's been eight months today.

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