When grief rears it’s ugly head.

I thought I had it under control. I thought I had passed the worst of it. I thought I had dealt with it enough for it to stay hidden. I thought I had pushed it far enough down that I wouldn’t have to face it again.

I was wrong.

It’s been 13 months since my last miscarriage. I’m not sure if making it through the year anniversary of the date we lost the baby, or the year anniversary only a month before that from the 2nd miscarriage; is the cause of this grief popping up. Or if it’s the fact that I’ve been starting to have thoughts that maybe my journey to have another baby isn’t actually over yet. My therapist thinks that now I’m in a really healthy place in my life and things are going well, my subconscious has gone “OK she’s ready to deal with this now” and has bought it to the surface again. I guess that does make sense as I know I have this innate ability to block things that I’m not ready to deal with yet.

Whatever the reasoning behind it doesn’t actually matter I guess, because it’s hit me full force and I feel like I’m right back at the start again. And I’ve been through it three times now so I know I can do it again. But what I’m struggling with right now, is that I just don’t want to.

I don’t want to feel the loss anymore. I don’t want to experience the ache in my heart when I see a pregnant woman. I don’t want the agony of the flashbacks to my time in hospital. I don’t want the crippling pain of all the what if questions that come to the surface. I don’t want the bad dreams that make me not want to sleep.

I just don’t want to deal with it. The grief is too intense. The pain is still too real. And all I can sit here and do is cry and beg to have my babies back. I sit here and wonder if they were girls or boys. If they would have looked like me or their big sister. I sit here and ache to hold them just once and look into their eyes. To breath them in and feel their tiny hearts beating.

There is literally nothing I or anyone else can do to make it easier or to take the pain away. It’s something I just have to sit through and allow myself to go through each agonising process, step by step.

Because it hits me at random moments (like at work and I end up sitting in the bathroom crying into toilet paper and trying to keep my sobbing to a minimum), my therapist has suggested I allocate “grief time.” To actually designate time to sit and think about it and allow myself to cry. It kind of sounds weird I guess but it makes sense. That way I’m allowing myself to experience the emotions in a controlled environment and I’m getting the emotional release that I need so it doesn’t build up and release itself at inopportune moments. This way I can attempt to have some kind of control over it and when it bubbles up when I can’t actually deal with it, to kindly say to myself “It’s ok that you’re feeling upset, however now is not the time and you will have your time later.” It kind of sound clinical but I like it. I feel that I would rather control it than be an inconsolable mess at inappropriate moments.

She has also suggested I create a memory box so that I can hold the special things from that time and allow myself to remember the beautiful memories of when I was pregnant. I do have things hidden away that I couldn’t face looking at, but the idea of putting them in a special box and honouring their memory instead of hiding them, sounds nice. It even allows me to feel a little bit of peace about it all.

So many people have told me that you never get over it, you just learn to live with it. And I’m starting to see that this is so true. I think I have been fighting it and trying to “get over it” so I didn’t have to ever face it again. But I’m realising now that that isn’t possible. This is something that will live within me for the rest of my life. Nothing will ever make it better. Nothing will ever fill that void or make the feeling of loss go away. It’s a matter of finding my way of coping day by day so that over time it eventually gets that little bit easier and isn’t so crippling when it hits you.

Grief is one nasty and sneaky bitch that hits you when you least expect it. I’m hoping I can find a way to manage it a little better and cope with it in my own way again, rather than having it control me.

And I hope one day I can find a way to stop wishing things turned out differently so I can finally accept what happened and stop hating life for taking my precious babies away.

The day it all fell into place

So I completed the half marathon. It wasn’t pretty. It was one of the worst runs of my life actually; but crossing that line made everything else that I had been working on, click into place.

For those that are just discovering my blog, here’s a bit of a back story behind why I set this goal, and also why I started my blog. I hit the lowest and darkest point in my life after 3 miscarriages and my partner at the time walking out on me and taking our daughter. Everything that I loved in my life, I lost. I felt like my life as I knew it, was over.

It was at this point where I felt this burning desire inside me to run. I used to be a runner and had let myself go and wasn’t exercising at all. I set myself the goal of doing the Gold Coast half marathon. That was 10 months away and my first “training” session was a 10 minute walk that almost resulted in a panic attack and needing to get back into the house as soon as possible.

Fast forward 10 months. I’d run over 700 kilometers in training sessions. I’d had shitty news from my Physio only a month out from race day that I had a tear in my glute and needed 6 weeks rest, and the week leading up to the race I had a huge emotional break down. But one thing that didn’t happen, is that I never gave up. Not once did it cross my mind to not be on that starting line and give it my all. Not once did I lose track of my goals. I certainly had to adjust them a few times to accommodate a few road blocks, but I was always going to do whatever it took to cross that line.

Because it had been a gruelling journey just to get to the start line, the week leading up to the race was always going to be emotional. I thought it was bad at the start of the week when fear and self doubt set in, but the worst happened when I started to look at the positives of how far I had come. I was so over come with pride, it was over whelming. Only 3 days before the race, I tried to go for a 45 minute run; I lasted 4 minutes before literally having a break down on the side of the road.

Things weren’t looking pretty, but I knew it was coming. I knew that the last week was always going to be tough and that it would bring up a huge amount of emotions that needed to be released.

By Saturday I was feeling good. I was ready. I had a few moments of panic over stupid things that really didn’t matter, like the fact it was raining and I was worried that I wouldn’t be warm enough wearing just a sports bra and I should rush out and buy a singlet. As if that was going to make a difference. But I could step back and recognise that this was just nerves, and I’ve always seen having nerves as a good thing. It means you care about what is going to happen.

I woke up Sunday morning, everything went smoothly. Getting dressed and putting my racing bib on I felt calm and focused. I got dropped off about 1 kilometer from the starting point and did a slow jog to warm up. I felt strong and mentally ready.

Waiting around for an hour before the race actually begins is tough. The atmosphere is bouncing with nerves and excitement and it’s hard to not lose a lot of energy getting wrapped up in it. There was a few moments of thinking “I should have done this or that.” “Why didn’t I train this way instead of that way.” Panic and fear that tries to steal your thunder. But standing in the crowd ready to run, I remember taking a deep breath and thinking “You’re ready. You’ve done everything you possibly could. Enjoy the moment, it’s yours.” I felt a huge sense of relief and clarity. I knew in that moment, that I had come to a full acceptance that whatever happened after that gun went off, that I was proud of what I had already achieved.

I started off at a blistering pace. I hate starting off fast but again it’s hard to not get wrapped up in the energy around you. The first 13 kilometers I was sitting around the 4:30 – 4:40 pace so I was 100% confident that I was going to absolutely smash my goal of sub 1 hour 45 minutes. Then things started to go wrong. I had felt a tiny niggle around my hip at the 9 km mark but it went away so I ignored it. At 13 km the pain started. It was a deep throbbing pain that started in the one area where my injury was, and slowly started to spread across my back and down my right leg.

My physio had told me that if I can run through the throbbing pain then that was ok, but if I felt any sharp, stinging pains I was to pull out immediately. Panic set in big time. I knew there was still a long 8 km to go and with every step the pain was spreading.

At 15km I stopped to spew. I’d had a full protein shake instead of my normal half because I knew it was such a long wait before the race started – lesson learnt, stick to what you normally do before a race. It probably didn’t help either that I was getting myself into such a high state of panic thinking I wasn’t going to hit my goal time.

By 19 km I had stopped probably 5 times to try and stretch, and had to walk for a few hundred meters. My hip had completely seized up and I was basically dragging my leg and walking sideways. Then the tears started as I looked at my watch and saw the time click over to 1 hour 45 minutes. I felt like I had failed.

I’m finding it hard to find the words to describe what happened over the next few minutes. It felt like hours were passing. I was at a cross roads. Do I walk away? Do I keep pushing?

There was a million thoughts racing through my head and all I wanted to do was scream at them to shut up. I just wanted a moments peace. I just wanted the pain to stop. I just wanted it all to be over.

It was having that last thought that clicked me back into gear. I had worked tirelessly for 10 months to get to this point and in 2 short kilometres, it would be over and this was my moment to reap the rewards for all that hard work. I started a slow jog again and started to take in the crowds. The last kilometer the streets are lined with supporters and the atmosphere is amazing and something that words could never describe.

By this stage the pain was so intense it was taking my breath away and the tears were flowing freely. I was doing a weird shuffle run and my leg kept giving out on me. The crowd picked up on this and suddenly I was hearing constant shouts of “come on Jess you’ve got this, don’t give up.” It was incredibly overwhelming and humbling and an experience that I’ll never forget.

As I turned the last corner I saw the finish line and panicked a bit as I thought I’d missed seeing my family. Then I heard my Mum scream “Go Jessica.” I turned and saw them and felt the most immense amount of pride and accomplishment. I waved my hands and gave them a fist pump. Then I focused on the finish line and crossed in 2 hours and 1 minute.

This was it. I’d done it. I’d battled the most horrific traumas and overcome so many bumps in the road and I never gave up. The last 10 meters I kissed my neck lace that Mum gave me after my first miscarriage. I looked at the sky and thought about my 3 angel babies that I lost and I cried. Oh man did I cry. As I crossed the line it all came out. My legs finally gave way as well and I hit the deck. I don’t know how long I sat on the ground and cried but it felt like an eternity. The emotional release was intense and all part of the process.

I finally stood up and started taking it all in. It was breath taking. The other runners were a mix of pure raw emotion like myself, and also crazy with excitement and sense of achievement.

Seeing my niece and daughter coming up to me was another huge moment. I grabbed them for dear life and cried again so with so much pride. Lexi is only 3 so she really didn’t understand what was going on, but I remember crouching down and holding her at arms length and I could tell in her eyes that she knew this moment was huge but that she didn’t fully comprehend what was happening. She was fascinated with my medal and wanted to wear it which again made my heart bust with pride.

It’s been 4 days since the race as I sit here and write this and I still don’t think I’ve fully processed it all.

I look at the person I was when I started this journey and I barely recognise her. I’ve spent endless hours in therapy working through everything I have spent 35 years bottling up. I’ve looked deep within myself to find out who I really am and who I want to be. I’ve embraced what I used to see as flaws within myself and now see them as parts of me that I love. I’ve accepted who I am and have grown to love this person.

Moving forward I know my journey isn’t over. I will continue to grow and learn more about myself. I will have bad days and relapses into bad habits that I used to have. But I now know that I can handle whatever life throws at me and that is an empowering feeling.

So while I completed the half marathon in probably the ugliest way possible, all that matters is that I crossed that line and achieved my goal. And the most incredible part of it all, was the journey I took to get there. The transformations I made to grow and heal myself. The person I discovered inside myself that I had been hiding all these years. The friendships I’ve made since starting my blog and sharing my story. It’s all of those things that matter most, not the actual run.

The journey of 21.1 kilometers will last a lifetime and I will always look back on that moment as one of the greatest achievements of my life.

The end….and the beginning

So I started this blog 4 months ago and this will be my 24th publication. I began writing as a form of therapy to help release some of the shit I was struggling to deal with, and publishing these thoughts turned into a different type of therapy in itself.

I’ve not only discovered so much about myself along this journey, but so much about those in my life and also total strangers that have reached out who have been touched by my words. It’s been such an eye-opening and utterly amazing experience that I will look back on and remember for the rest of my life.

I’m honored and also shocked to say that out of the thousands of comments I have received, not one has been negative in any way. My biggest fear in releasing such personal information and admitting to my deepest struggles, is that I would receive negative feedback from trolls and or people who just didn’t have anything better to do than to try and tear someone down in their moments of need.

Every comment has been filled with encouragement, support and an outpouring of love. I’m still blown away by the kind and heartfelt words people have taken the time to send me. I’m still speechless by the stories that people have shared with me about their struggles and how my words gave them the courage to step up and make changes for themselves and to face their fears.

I can’t begin to describe how much this means to me. I’ve been through the worst 2 years of my life and faced things I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. I’ve allowed myself to be raw, vulnerable, brutally honest and sometimes pretty blunt. I sometimes felt so alone and lost that I thought I’d never make it out the other side.

But I did make it. And to the thousands of people that have come along this journey with me and left words of support, I could never find the words to thank you or to show just how much I’ve been touched by you. I sit here racking my brain for a way to describe it, but nothing works. No words seem good enough. All I can say, is from the bottom of my heart I thank you and I will never forget your kindness.

I’ve written in past blogs that as I go through this journey, I find old ways of getting me through are no longer working for me and I have to rediscover something different. This is one of these moments. And unfortunately, writing these blogs just aren’t giving me therapy they used to. I’m struggling to find the words that used to come freely. I’m finding that due to the enormous changes I’ve made and the new techniques I’ve found to deal with my emotions, I no longer need to write so much down. I have found a way to deal with these things in a much healthier way so that they don’t get on top of me to the point in which I need to write to release all the emotions that come with the struggles.

I’m by no means at the end of my journey or self-discovery. But I have reached a point in which I feel comfortable tackling things before I get so overwhelmed like I used to. I still have little relapses where I fall into negative thinking patterns or get overwhelmed by the smaller things in life that shouldn’t bother me so much; but the difference now is that rather than falling into a rut of being anxious and over emotional for weeks, I can now face the issues that triggered me and lift myself up within hours or a day at the most.

I can take a step back and recognise why I’m reacting a certain way to something that triggered me. I can sit with the discomfort or pain and allow myself to feel it so I can then move forward and heal from it, rather than fighting it and then having it completely take me over.

This shows just how much growth I’ve made over this journey and all I can do is sit here and smile (with tears in my eyes). I look back at the broken form that I was when I started this and I just want to hug her for being so brave in finally facing her demons. For finally stepping up and asking for help. For finally having the courage to take her power back from the abuse she went through 25 years ago. For finally admitting she wasn’t living life on her terms, but was living to please others.

I will never forget my struggles or the journey I’ve been on, but my focus now is solely on looking forward, not backward. The hardest part to begin with was that I had to look so far back to face the trauma’s that had affected me, in order to deal with them and heal from them. Now the hardest part is trusting in myself and knowing that I have done the hard work properly this time, rather than skipping through it and getting hit with it all over again in a few years time. Deep down I know I have and I tell myself this whenever the fear sets in.

So moving forward to the next stage in my life is all about helping others to get through their journey’s. Having so many people reach out to me and share their pain and difficulties and confide in me that my words helped them, was so humbling. It made me feel like I was finally making a difference in the world, one tiny step at a time. I want to do more of this. I’m not sure what that looks like at the moment or how I’m going to make it happen, but I know that I feel a stirring in my gut to make a difference and I’ll do whatever I need to in order to do it.

I know I’ll probably still feel the need to release emotional baggage from time to time so I will occasionally add to this blog. I just won’t be doing it on a regular basis anymore.

I’m also turning my words into a book. My goal is to delve deeper into these blogs and really discover the fundamentals of what caused me to end up the way I was. And to also share on a deeper level, the techniques I used to get through and pull myself out of hitting rockbottom.

Once again I can’t thank you all enough for the support and love you have shown me. I can’t wait to share my book with you!

For those that have reached out to me to share your stories or for guidance, please don’t hesitate to continue doing so. I’m always available to chat and I’m great at listening.

And as this part of my journey comes to an end, the beginning of another is just getting started and I’m so excited to see where it takes me.

So much love to you all xoxo

A bump in the road of life

So.…..the running part of this journey is not going to end the way I expected. The way I wanted it to. The way I needed it to. My out spoken goal was to complete the half marathon in less time than 6 years ago when I last ran it, which was 1 hour and 53 minutes. My secret goal that I had set for myself, was to do it in under 1 hour and 45 minutes.

Up until around 2 months ago, everything was going perfectly. I was way ahead of schedule with the kilometers I needed to be running. My fitness was on point. I was running pain and discomfort free. I had it in the bag.

Or so I thought….

It started in my left knee. A little niggle every now and then. It would pull really tight and be so painful I’d have to stop for 30 seconds or so for the pain to ease. I was worried obviously that I had injured something in my knee. But then I really started to listen to my body. I took note of every tiny little thing I could feel in my body. I had noticed for a few weeks that I was pretty tight through my right hip but it was when I was at work or just sitting around so I hadn’t taken much notice of it. But as the weeks went by, the pain started to intensify as I was running. I realised the pain in my knee was because I was running off kilter to protect my hip where the real injury was.

I tried to ignore it. I buried my head in the sand. If I didn’t think about it, it wasn’t really happening right??? It got to a point where I just couldn’t run through the pain any more and went to see a Physio. The outcome after a few sessions was a possible stress tear in my medial glute. (One of my ass muscles for those that aren’t up to date on muscle names, and in very basic terms – it connects your hip bone to your leg bone)

Then I moved and had to change physio. Jump forward a few weeks and after finally being honest with her about the level of pain I was in (yes I again tried to hide it and not accept it), the diagnosis is indeed a stress tear in my glute and also a tear in a ligament in my pelvis. Both injuries require 6 weeks rest to heal.

This kind of does not fit in with my plan of running sub 1:45 in only 3 weeks time.

What now? Not starting the race is not an option. I set this goal for myself over 9 months ago and have busted my ass tirelessly to train for it and get myself prepared for it. I have spent every single day 100% motivated and committed to achieving my goal. It’s only been over the last few weeks that I’ve kind of lost my mojo for it all and this was due to the fact I knew this news was coming.

I’ve known for awhile now that the pain I’m feeling isn’t just normal aches and pains that come with long distance running. I knew it and I’ve been doing what I can to listen to my body and pull back when it gets too intense. Have more rest days when I know I need it. But I just didn’t want to accept it. I didn’t want to face reality.

The best I can aim for now is to finish. Which I’m not ok with. I’ve been putting on a brave face. Saying I’m totally ok with it and will still be proud to cross that line. It’s all bullshit. I’m not ok with just finishing. I’m not ok with sitting on a slower pace. I’m not ok with not going out there and giving it my all, leaving it all on the line to hit that goal.

And I know that everyone will say that I’ve still accomplished so much to get where I am. And that there’s millions out there that could never do a half marathon. But right now I don’t care. I worked so fucking hard on this and to have something come up that is out of my control stop me, it’s devastating.

To be honest I’m so fucking angry and disappointed I could cry. I want to yell and scream and completely lose my shit. Maybe throw a few plates. Punch the shit out of something.

But what’s the point? It wont change anything. Nothing and no one can change this outcome. The sad reality is, is that it comes with the territory of this type of training. Injuries happen. It fucking sucks, but they happen and there isn’t a dammed thing we can do about it.

My plan of attack now, is to sit with this disappointment. Not run from it. I have to sit with it and feel it in order to accept it and move on. I don’t like it one bit and every fibre of me is wanting to run from it. That’s what the old me would have done. And I guess this shows how much I’ve grown throughout this journey. I could easily block all of this and pretend it’s ok and suffer in silence, but all that would do is leave it sitting there for me to deal with later on.

I don’t know what’s going to happen come race day. I will be on that starting block come rain, hail or shine. But how fast I get to the finish and what state I’ll be in by the time I get there, who knows.

All I know for certain right now is that I’m not giving up. I’m pulling up on all pace training and will just being doing slow and steady runs to try and manage the pain and not make the injuries worse.

I have to trust in myself and the fact that I’ve done the hard work. I’m mentally and other than one spot on my body, physically ready. I have to focus on the skills I’ve learnt through this process. I have to look deeply at the fact that I went into this journey completely broken and I’ve pulled myself out and upwards. These are the real achievements. Crossing that line would just be the icing on the cake.

I need to accept that maybe I won’t get my icing, but I’ve got my cake already and it tastes amazing.

This is just another shitty bump in the path of my journey. But it’s highlighting how much I’ve grown and I’m coming to terms with that. I’m a perfect mixture of hating this lesson, and completely appreciating it. Which is a solid step forward from how I would have handled this only a few months ago.

And all I can say right now, is that I’m really proud of that fact and I know that the final acceptance of this will come with time.

Conquering my mountain

After 8 long and tortuous months of what felt like hell every day, I feel like I’ve finally gone through the worst of it. Finally reached the summit of the mountain I’ve been climbing on this journey.

I was broken as a human being. An empty shell. I was shattered to my core and I honestly spent a long time thinking rock bottom was where my life was going to be from that point onwards.

So many people told me it would get easier. That things would finally get better. But I didn’t believe them for a second. Things just always seemed to get worse. Every day was a battle in which I kept getting hit from every direction. It was relentless.

When everything you’ve ever wanted in life gets taken away from you, it destroys your soul. Your purpose for getting up each day and even managing the basic tasks in life seem too much and are overwhelming.

I truly felt that this feeling of hopeless and despair would never leave me.

But slowly and surely, it has. Step by step I’ve bought the light back into my life. I’ve built myself back up from the roots of my core to find a whole new person that has been hiding my entire life.

I’ve discovered me. The real me. Not the front that I’ve always put on. Not the image of who I thought I was expected to be. My masks are gone. My walls are down.

It wasn’t until I walked back into my new/old job a few weeks ago, that I realised just how much I have actually changed. I worked there about 18 months ago when the beginning of this downhill slide of my life started, and walking back in was pretty confronting.

I was terrified of slipping back into the same old patterns I had when I was there last. Of hiding who I was. Of having my defensive walls set firmly in place and not allowing many people to get close to me.

I’ve been walking around thinking how different everyone is this time. Everyone seems more open and friendly.

The harsh truth that I had to face. Was that no one there has changed. They’ve always been open and friendly. It was me that was different. I’ve changed.

I used to walk around with this massive defensive wall up. I was so full of shame and my confidence was so low, that I would walk around with my head down, not wanting to make eye contact with anyone. My life was falling apart so I didn’t want to talk about it with anyone. I didn’t want to share any of the shitty things I was going through. I was hurting inside. I was breaking. I was fucking angry to be honest.

I’m ashamed to think of the person I used to be. Work colleagues would try to interact with me and I’d give nothing in return. They probably had the impression I was a grumpy bitch. And I guess I kinda was back then. I’ve been trying to not think about how I was back then as it’s embarrassing. But I know there will come a time when I have to own it and accept it for what it was. A coping mechanism.

It was all I could do to get through each day. I was fighting an internal battle that I was loosing control of. I could barely function enough to get through the basics. So when it came to trying to build new relationships in a work environment that I was new to, it was just too much.

I walk into work now and I love it. The work is still the same, but I’m getting to know some amazing people who were always there. I just wouldn’t let them in. It feels like a brand new job. Brand new people. But in reality nothing has changed a bit. Except me.

I’m finding this in so many aspects of my life these days. Because I carry myself differently, I actually walk around with my head up instead of pretending to be looking at something interesting on the ground; I’m finding that I have so many different experiences. I actually interact with people. I don’t hide from small talk. I don’t run away from new experiences.

When I stand back and look at this mountain I’ve climbed, I can’t be anything but proud. I’ve gone from despair and hopelessness, to now feeling nothing but hope and excitement for what the future holds. I feel like I have the strength to stare life in the eyes and say “What’s next bitch?” Because I know that whatever is thrown at me from now on, I can face it head on and tackle it with confidence.

I’ve been through the worst and finally hit the summit of the mountain, and now I get to reap the rewards and experience the absolute joys in life. I now get to see it from a fresh pair of eyes and thrive in this brand new world that I have built from the ground up. Just like climbing an actual mountain, the views up here are endless and the path I take from here is mine to choose.

Timeless healing

They say time heals all wounds. Well you know what, I’m getting a little bit impatient waiting for this to happen. Actually a lot impatient. To be honest I’m sick to death of waiting.

I’ve had a week of virtually no sleep and everything is getting on top of me. I’m even hitting a point where I’m losing motivation for my running which is massive. I’ve spent the last 9 months with an unwavering motivation to run and train and smash this half marathon goal. I’m 5 weeks away from the race and I’m quickly losing all focus and determination. My body isn’t recovering and healing like it should be, because I’m not sleeping.

One of the more important aspects of training is getting enough rest to give your body time to recover and this isn’t happening so my body is in constant agony. I’m sore from head to toe. My eyes feel like they have needles in them. My brain has a fog over it and I’m not thinking clearly. I even put toothpaste on my daughter’s chest instead of Vick’s vapour rub a few days ago.

All because I’m laying here wide awake with thoughts of when will this all be over? When will the pain go away? When will I heal? When will a day pass where I don’t think about the what if’s? When will I stop feeling so lonely? When will the grief go away? When will I be able to look at my daughter and not feel guilty that she will grow up never remembering her parents together? When will I stop feeling like I was never good enough? When will I stop analysing everything tiny little thing I said and did and wondering how I could have done it differently? When? When? WHEN!?!?!?!?

I feel like I’ve stepped up big time during this journey. I’ve seen a therapist. I’ve followed her recommendations. I’ve done the hard work and walked into the pain rather than walking away and pretending I’m fine. I never stop processing my thoughts and feelings and doing the work to heal them. I’ve done the hard yards and faced everything that I’ve bottled up my whole life. I’ve opened up and been completely vulnerable.

Yet still I’m here feeling like shit. I’m still hurting. I’m still grieving. And I’m fucking over it.

I’ve hit a point where I’m just thinking fuck it why don’t I just go back to pushing my emotions down. Pretending that everything is fine. Pretending I’m ok and that losing my little family isn’t a big deal. Pretending I’ve moved on and I’m happy. Bury my head in the sand and not deal with any feelings or emotions that come up?

It would be so much easier. I could “heal” myself in an instant if I just pretend I don’t care and that it doesn’t affect me.

I’m sick of feeling so deeply. I’m sick of caring so much. I’m sick of the roller coaster. I’m sick of the heartbreak. I’m sick of the battle.

I’m totally and utterly done. I’ve given it my all. I’ve thrown myself into this journey with reckless abandon to finally face my demons and heal properly.

But I’m exhausted.

I’ve got nothing left to give.

I’m completely and irrecoverably done.

Time is taking too long.

I think I’ve been waiting for that aha moment where you all of a sudden you feel human again. Where everything finally clicks into place and all the hard work pays off. Maybe there is no such moment after so much heart ache in such a short space of time. Maybe little by little wounds heal and it gets easier. Maybe the pain never goes away.

I don’t know anymore. All I know right now in this moment is that I’ve literally got nothing left to give.

My journey has broken me.

Self pity rant

I’ve worked tirelessly to not feel self pity through this journey and to also find ways to express myself other than anger. I had a really bad habit of bottling things up so strongly that when the bottle finally cracked everything came out forcefully and I would react with anger.

But right now I’m fucking angry. And I’m full of self pity. And I can’t keep quiet any longer.

When did it become an acceptable practice to blatantly ignore people you’re meant to care about? When did it become ok to use people and then treat them like trash when you no longer see a need for them? When did people decide that when someone goes the extra mile for them to help out, it’s no longer necessary to even say a basic thank you?

It’s fucking rude and disrespectful and I’m done with it all.

Even during my darkest moments not once have I ever ignored anyone in my life. Wether it’s a random question they ask me or if they are reaching out for help or advice. I don’t ever go without replying. And sometimes all I can manage is a “I’m sorry I’m having a terrible day can we chat tomorrow?” But at least I reply. I make the effort to not make them feel unwanted and uncared for.

Yet somehow there is numerous people in my life that vow they care for me and are there for me no matter what, yet choose to ignore me. To blatantly not reply to text messages or calls.

And I’m not talking about being ignored because you’ve had an argument with someone and they just need space. These are “friends” and also someone who said she wanted to be in a relationship with me.

Out of the blue with no prior arguments. Ghosted. Completely ignored. No explanation. No apologies. Just completely pushed out of their lives. Or at the absolute most, one worded responses or messages that leave no doubt they are being blunt and to the point and show that they have no time for me and I’m inconveniencing them by just saying “hey how are you going?”

These are people that know what I’ve been through. That I’ve opened up to and been vulnerable with in telling them my biggest fear is being abandoned. And for whatever reason, they choose to do the same and hurt me all over again. Choose to put me in another position where I question everything I did and blame myself.

It used to be basic manners and basic human decency to treat people as they treat you. Now it seems the norm that if you go out of your way for someone and choose to be kind and helpful, the person you did that for then seems to feel they have the right to walk all over you. To look down on you and treat you as sub par to them.

I was just going to write that maybe I expect too much of people. But screw that. I’m not asking for anything other than basic manners. Basic respect. Basic communication. And I’m only expecting to be treated how I treat them. That’s not asking too much. And it shouldn’t even be an issue. I shouldn’t have to ask. These are people that have said they care about me. That I thought played an important part in my life.

People that know me, know that I’m loyal beyond reproach. If I care about someone I’d literally walk through fire for them. Yeah a bit extreme but that’s just me. But on a basic level when someone reaches out to me for help or advice, if possible I drop everything and do what I can to help. And if I can’t help I’ll be upfront and tell them I can’t help right now but am available at a different time. And then I always make the effort to check in with them and see how they are going. If someone I care about is going through a difficult time I’ll jump up to help in any way I can without being asked. Going over and above to make their lives even just a little easier in their time of need.

Is it too much to expect even just basic support in return? I’m not asking them to drop everything for me. Just to reply to a bloody text message when I reach out. Surely that’s not so fucking difficult to do for someone when they have been there tirelessly for you?

I’m absolutely done with it. I’ve tried to not let this whole process harden me or make me bitter. I’ve tried to be patient and understanding. But enough is enough. I’m sick of making such a huge effort to only be ignored and treated like crap. I’m sick of getting kicked while I’m down over and over. I’ve tried to work through it and keep it bottled but no more.

When someone can’t even say a simple thank you when you go out of your way to do something for them. Or can’t even make the effort to respond to a text. Then I’m done.

I’m no longer going to be the one making all the effort. I’m no longer going to chase people that make no effort for me. If those that haven’t made the effort or have ignored me, decide they want me in their lives; they can chase me. They can make the effort. They can step up and prove it. I’m done!!!

Self pity rant finished!

Onwards and upwards. Out with the people that don’t make the effort for me.

(This vow of not making an effort only applies to those that haven’t been doing the same for me. Or have ignored me. Or treated me like an object to use as they please. I’m obviously still going to be me and make the effort for those in my life that do the same and that have been here for me. I’m just realising I need to be even more careful when choosing who to trust and who to go out of my way for. And for those that have been there for me, I thank you again and I appreciate so much the effort you make xoxo).