Inside out, upside down.

This weekend was filled with many ups and downs. These last two weeks, I have felt very vulnerable, these emotions raw and jagged and bubbling up to the surface when I least expect it. My beloved Kajira tells me that I have been bottling everything up since April, and the numbness has been breaking through.

For the most part, I had several amazing adventures. Angelboy and I had a lot of fun, having a Mad Max movie night and gorging on post-Apocalypse goodness while creating ATCs. I have gotten him addicted. I love that we can spend hours, side by side in a world of creations. Fingers stained with inks and acrylics and losing scisssors and glue in our hair, just laughing and inspiring each other. I love those moments.

We rounded up the last harvest from my garden, before dismantling everything and sweeping the earth under protective piles of leaves. Then we had adventures in the kitchen with my mother while she taught us how to create a feast of green-fried tomatoes, and homegrown sweet-potatoes and carrots drizzled in orange juice and cinammon, plus fall-time apple crisp!

Those are some of the good things. Some of the bad things included one really bad breakdown, just me bursting into tears while Angelboy tried to comfort me, looking boggled and confused. I came to the realization that I have spent these past few months just distracting myself from... myself. Searching for books and movies and silly facebook games, desperate to fill the hours with activities that keep me from thinking and feeling and being in my own skin. I told him how I hate that I have been a super hermit lately - in the last two months, I have only hung out with my friends once. But it has all been by my own choice.

I told him how I am not over what happened in the spring, and there was a blankness in his eyes that cut me to the core. He actually had to think back, recall the badness. And it just drove the point home - I don't think there is anything so isolating and painful as losing your baby before it can be born. And it will never hurt anyone as much as it hurts you - they can move on, it doesn't really affect their lives. Even Angelboy doesn't think about it anymore. It doesn't hurt him at all.

But these past two weeks especially, I keep remembering.

I want to scream at everyone. I want to punch walls and scream until my throat turns raw, I want to shout and break glass and snarl obscenties and destroy everything around me. I want to lash out. I want to just cry and cry and cry, until all of these salt rivers in my veins dry up. I want to hurt myself, that itch beneath the skin that always comes when things get too bad.

I am stronger than these urges, though. I haven't hurt myself in several years, and I don't plan on starting now. I just feel like a ball of bad emotions, of rage and pain and sadness. Because I feel like I am existing in a world that is comprised of emotional agony or total numbess. And nobody understands. Even my loved ones are confused, even they don't know what to say. There is just silence, and I feel pressure to keep silent, keep it all bottled up. Like it's been months, so I should have moved on....

But I can't. And none of them understand. And I have never felt as alone as I have felt these past six months.

And for once, I am tired of pretending to be positive, pretending like I am totally a-okay. Because I have been in pieces for months, and sometimes, just making it to the end of the day is a victory that no one else appreciates.


Blah. I think I am going to pick up journaling again, physically keeping a book and trying to create a visual journal. ATCs were the only thing that kept me sane and balanced this weekend, which reinforces the fact that I need to stop avoiding these emotions using books and internet games, and just deal with it head on. Preferably channeling all of this negativity into something productive, potentially beautiful.

We'll see how it goes.

Loss

I find myself lost. It's been a week and a half since the miscarriage, and this numbness won't go away. On the outside, I am still smiling. Staying strong for my family, laughing with my mother and sister and her kidlets, hanging out with my angelboy, trying to stay active and positive.

I feel like I am dying. Cracked inside, empty. Having no job gives me plenty of time to think, and that is the last thing I want to do. So I spend my days reading, nose pressed against book pages in an attempt to fade into another world, become someone, anyone else. At night, when everyone is asleep, the tears come. Ripping out of my chest, tearing my throat with a harshness that scares me.

It is impossible to talk about. Impossible to explain. I had this life inside of me, part Starchild and part Angelboy. I wanted that future. I would put my hand to my belly and whisper songs to my starbaby, telling it stories and how I would always protect it. Angelboy would laugh and press his hand to my stomach, kissing me and glowing. He was young but he stepped up to the plate. We were going to have a child and we were going to be the best parents ever.

Then the bleeding started. Eight weeks pregnant, all I could do is watch in horror. And so my baby died. And I lied. Because my starbaby died in the one place he should have been safe.

And now I am left here. Empty and aching. I don't know how to move forward. So I pretend to be okay. But I am not. I don't think I will be for a long time. I just don't know how to heal. Everyone is pretending that nothing happened. Angelboy is no different. He held me while I wept, and he shed a few tears himself. But after that.... Nothing. It is like it never happened. It's like we never talked about baby names or made plans and watched other little kidlings and dreamed about our own.

It's like... This is my nightmare. And I can't forget. I don't even want to get out of bed. Because there is no point. I bought craft supplies to keep me busy, lots of plushie animals to turn into rainbow colorful backpacks.... But I can't get started. I have no motivation. I try to read, and I can only get through a few chapters before I have to put it down and start another one. I try to look for jobs, and I just don't care. My phone rings with calls and text messages, and I don't even have the energy to answer.

My Starbaby WAS there. Was a part of me and I loved him so much. And now there is nothing. I pretend and everyone pretends. I feel like I am going crazy. People say, "Take it one day at a time." And I want to snarl at them, push them away. I am surviving one hour at a time. And I don't think they realize just how difficult that is.

I can't breathe.

I don't know how to move forward.

This is not like me. But I can't fix it.

I feel so helpless.