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Dec. 2nd, 2012 05:42 pm
bouldersandbrews: (Sephiroth - Nice view)
She feels a dull ache begin in her head, spreading quickly to her heart and stomach. She then feels a pressure in her throat, almost an ache, and the first tear slides down her cheek.

They're leaving.

It's the kind of thing one is vaguely aware of, like one is vaguely aware that people in Africa eat monkeys. Vaguely aware of it, but it doesn't have any sort of real impact because it isn't immediate, real, there.

But if one were to travel to Africa and actually see it happen -

They're leaving!

She knew it had to happen someday, that there was no logical reason for her to believe that Hayden and Lindsay would both spend the rest of their lives in San Diego. But to realize that in just over two weeks, they'd be gone -

It hits her. She feels like she imagines it would feel to be punched in the stomach with no warning. She's vaguely tempted to ask someone to punch her in the stomach for the sole purpose of having a basis for comparison. But that won't change the facts.

They're leaving...

Lindsay's trip to Australia is sort of drastic, she feels - but it'll be good for Lindsay to experience life away from her family for a few months. She feels that Lindsay needs that kind of experience, that kind of freedom. And after all, Lindsay's coming back in six months or so - this isn't a permanent move. True, it's almost half a year - and that's a long time - but at least she's coming back.

But Hayden...

She's always felt more of a connection with Hayden. Lindsay is sweet, funny, fun to be around - very likable, but what the two of them have in common is fairly surface. They have similar personality traits, similar viewpoints on many things. Hayden, though - they share personality traits as well. They share interests, humor, their rage at the world. She feels that she can be more herself around Hayden - that she can allow him to see some of the darkness she keeps caged up. Certainly not all of it - but more than she can show Lindsay, princess of sweetness and light. Hayden knows and understands darkness. One of the things she likes so much about Lindsay is that Lindsay doesn't know or understand darkness. That makes her likable, but it also means that she cannot relate to her as well.

And Hayden's leaving. Moving away to the East Coast. Not coming back in six months. Maybe not coming back ever. The thought depresses her enormously. She knows that he needs to get out of - at least his mother's house, if not the area entirely. She knows he needs to start a life of his own, a life that's his, that he can live without having to answer to his parents - a life that he can bring a wife into, someday. She knows it's entirely selfish, her sorrow at his moving away. And sure, there's texting, Facebook, Skype - but she looks at it, brutally and frankly - they rarely text, Facebook, or Skype now, and she doesn't expect that to change. No one texts/Skypes their stepmom. How very uncool.

And so she sighs and prepares to drown her sadness in alcohol. Because sometimes what cannot be changed or dealt with must just be drowned for a while.
bouldersandbrews: (Freya - Rains of Tragedy)

I mourn.

I mourn for what the church used to be.

...No... I mourn for what I used to think the church was.

Maybe I mourn for who I used to be, when I thought the church was great, the pillar of my life.

Either way, something has drastically changed, and I find myself grieving.

Posted via LiveJournal app for iPhone.

bouldersandbrews: (Agrias - Quiet Determination)
Dear Raisin,

Happy birthday :-) Today would have been the day I held you in my arms for the first time. Today would have been the day you met Mommy and Daddy, these odd people you'd been listening to for nine months. You would have seen the woman who was singing to you and talking to you all the time, the man who spoke to you and told you all sorts of wonderful interesting things. Today would have been the day you received a name - Catherine or James, depending on which suited you better. Today would have been the day you would have joined our little family.

But that ended up not being the case. Today is a sad day for Mommy, instead. Today is a day that she remembers seeing you far too soon. Today is a day where I can only think of you and mourn you. I can't see you today. I can't see my son or daughter today, a day which was supposed to be a happy occasion - the happiest of occasions.

I don't know what went wrong, sweetie. I don't know what happened, what caused you to leave me so soon. I don't know. But I know that I miss you. I know that I still think about you, still talk about you. I know that with every baby I see, I wonder what you would have been like. Would you have had green eyes like me, or blue ones like your daddy? Would you have liked video games or basketball better? Would you have wanted Hayden to teach you parkour? Would you have liked shopping with Lindsay?

Sadly, we don't get to meet each other anytime soon. But maybe someday we will, and I'll finally get to see my baby, my little Raisin child.

Happy birthday, sweetheart.

Love,
Mommy
bouldersandbrews: (Agrias - Quiet Determination)
I cannot wait to use a language-modified version of this on someone.

So, getting over stuff. I was thinking about it today, and I'm not done thinking about it, as my idea is still half formed in my mind... but I'm not sure why we put ourselves under so much pressure to get over things that have happened.

I think it's probably societal pressure. Somehow, somewhere along the line, we - women mostly, if not entirely - have felt a need to be tougher, stronger, less emotional, and have tried to respond to it, with most detrimental results.

I think I'll blame women's lib.

I know that in my case, I've felt a need to present myself as strong, tough, capable, competent. "Need" isn't the right word. Pressure isn't, either. "Drive" is closer, but even that doesn't being to describe the desperation behind it. And in order to present myself as strong et cetera, I actually needed to be strong et cetera... which meant getting over things way fast.

Being raped is not something you get over quickly. A rape victim cannot expect herself to just "get over" what happened.

Having a horrifying childhood is not something you get over quickly. The effects from it are long-lasting, if not permanent.

Losing your baby is not something you get over quickly. No parent should outlive their child.

But I feel like I need to "get over" all of these things. I mean, hell, I lost the Raisin almost two months ago, what's my damage? My childhood, what happened with my father, that was twenty-one years ago. What's my freaking deal?

Why am I not over this yet?

I can definitely attest to one thing: not allowing myself to grieve my innocence and my childhood has done me nothing but harm. This is why I'm not over it yet. This is why it still affects me so drastically. I have not allowed myself to grieve. In my efforts to "get over it already", I've instead unwittingly protracted my grieving time.

What time is it? You can always tell it's late when I start using words people will have to go look up.

The Raisin was two months ago. Not quite, but close. Am I crying about it every day? No. In that, I suppose I'm "getting over it". Do I still feel inexplicably sad and lonely at times? Do I still tear up when thinking about or looking at a baby for too long? Do I sometimes wish and wonder? In that, I suppose I'm not over it at all... that I'll never be "over it".

I know a man who lost his teenage son, I dunno, twenty years ago or so. Do you think he's over it? Do you think he hasn't allowed himself to take his time grieving?

Do you think it's silly, or stupid, for him to allow himself to grieve his son?

Why is it silly and stupid for us to do so? Why do we have to be stronger in our pain than men? Why are they allowed to grieve and we aren't?

Why are we forced to present ourselves as strong? Women are the weaker sex. Oh, the women's libbers are going to kick my ass for that one. Well, it's true, they're deluded, and I'm intellectually honest enough to admit that this is true. Women are softer, more emotional. We feel things more intensely, I think. But in our current society, we've created the idea that women need to be stronger, tougher, to be equal with men.

Admitting that women are weaker in some ways is not an admission of inequality.

Striving to be stronger than men is causing so much damage to our minds and spirits. Even if that's not our motivation. It's not mine, not at all. I always thought that this was how it was supposed to be - that women just had to be stronger than they were.

I might be too tired to squeeze anything more coherent out of my brain tonight.
bouldersandbrews: (Freya - Rains of Tragedy)
So I wake up this morning and the abdominal pain is still there. Blah blah blah details I call an ob-gyn and make an appointment.

So I go there, sit in the little room, and there's a note up on the wall about premature labor. That sets me off crying just as the doctor comes in the room. I answer honestly when she asks me how I am: "An emotional wreck."

She has decided that I need to have an ultrasound to determine if everything's out of my uterus. I get to see my empty, sad womb, try not to think about it as she's poking around down there and causing me pain, get out in the waiting room, see two pregnant women, and barely get out of the waiting room before losing it.

I guess I'd held out hope that this was all just some weird pregnancy thing and that there was still a Raisin in there somewhere. Seeing my empty uterus on the ultrasound screen hit it home. Seeing the pregnant women didn't help any. Yes Christina, this was going to be you but it's not, psych.

FYI, she said that I'm fine and that the miscarriage is about 97% complete, she gave me a couple of pills to purge the rest of the tissue out of the uterus (which is very little, but still causing me pain).

I can honestly say that, when next asked if I could go back in time and prevent an event from happening, that I would.
bouldersandbrews: (Default)
So the last week has been delightful and blissful. I could go through a daily play-by-play type thing. There's ultimately no point, though - we hung out all day and most of the night, then David would drive me home and we'd spend an hour in the car in my driveway saying goodnight, and I'd manage to catch about six hours of sleep before it'd be time to go again - whether briefly to work or over to Jason and Melanie's with David.

We talked. We drove around. We played games. We watched movies. We held each other. We talked some more. I would rather have done that than done anything else, with anyone else.

And now I'm wondering how on earth I seriously thought that a long distance relationship would be a good idea. I'm in agony here - David's on the plane leaving, going three thousand miles away, and I'm sitting here in front of the computer, seriously expecting him to pull into the driveway any second - just because that's how the last week has gone. How did I think this could work? I don't understand my thought processes at that point, seriously.

I won't break up with him. I love him far too much to do anything retarded like that - and it's a ridiculous notion anyways.

He can't move out here - Hayden and Lindsay are pretty much out in San Diego permanently, and David won't leave them.

That leaves one option. It sounds so insane on the surface - am I even seriously considering this? But I am. I'm 75-80% decided already, as a matter of fact. When I go out to visit him next month, I'm sure my decision will be made by then, or at least during.

It sounds like I've taken total leave of my senses and any common sense I may have once retained...I've thought this through and see it as my only option. Well, I could just, you know, stay out here, and like have David visit once a month, and yes what a smart idea, go through this agony all the freaking time, because that sounds like delightful fun NOT.

In other words, that's a gay idea, screw it.

Besides, it's not like I have a reason to stay in New York. Since my rent's being raised so high I might as well be getting kicked out.

I don't know. I feel like no matter what I say I'm to be judged "irresponsible" or something for this. Well...I'd like to say I don't care, but I do. I just don't care enough to let it influence me.

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