I’m having a really hard time expressing this. You know, I’ve grieved the loss of Baby 2. It doesn’t take long after six failed pregnancies to get up and carry on. Besides that, I didn’t even make it to my first appointment so it wasn’t like: Hey here’s the ultra sound, there’s the heart beat, it’s an actual baby. No. There was conception, my hormones changed, but for what ever reason it just didn’t last. It was more of the IDEA of Baby 2 that I lost. I know that. I’m not being over dramatic, or looking for pity.
It was really upsetting emotionally, and physically painful. Anyone who’s experienced a miscarriage knows they’re like cramps times ten. Worse than labor pains, in fact. That coupled with the fact that it’s really scary to be sitting on the couch completely fine one moment, feel a twinge that turns into a pain, and then out of the blue, buckets of blood. It’s really not a fun thing to experience, ever, certainly not while you’re excited about the prospect of a new child joining your family. I was literally sitting there talking to Nora about how awesome she was going to be as a big sister than, that happens.
So I wrote about it, because writing about it is how I deal with any extreme emotion. Sadness, happiness, anger, all of them. I’m a very intense person. When I have any emotion, I feel it to the very core of my being. Maybe that’s this Indigo thing, maybe it’s not. Either way, when I feel motivated enough to write something down it’s EXACTLY how I’m feeling in the moment. It doesn’t mean the moment won’t pass, or that there’s something wrong with me. At that little moment in time, that’s precisely where I am. It’s also really important for me to express my intense emotions as soon as possible, because if I don’t, then I dwell, and when I dwell I get stuck on things. It’s like a broken record. No matter how many times I leave, I always come back around to that little unexpressed thought/emotion.
I’ve tried to say this eight million times, and people just aren’t understanding, and it’s not only really hurtful, but it just creates more problems that I don’t really feel like dealing with right now. It seriously pisses me off. Like I’m on a whole level of rage I haven’t seen in almost nine years. This is like throw rolls of quarters down the stairs, screaming in the parking lot at Taco Bell rage. Or break down the door fist fight rage. Somewhere in between those, you have where I am now. It’s been a very long time, and I don’t really even know how to express it right now.
I can say that I’m not a passive aggressive person by nature. I’ve BECOME a passive aggressive person, because y’know, I like being alive and not in jail. My true nature? Truly aggressive. Like haphazard in your face aggressive. It’s taken me a really long time to reel myself in, and part of that is being able to write here. The harder people make it for me to write here, the more and more I want to smash things.
And you know, it’s not who you think. It’s not the people who comment, or who can come to me and talk about something that I’ve written. I mean I admit, back in the day before I completely got my anger under control I wrote some things that I shouldn’t have. They were inflamatory, offensive and mean, but we’ve talked about it and we’ve reached a level of understanding. That’s cool. In fact that’s really preferred. lol.
I don’t blog about anything that I’m not willing to talk about. Obviously. It’s public. It’s not a secret. My secrets are kept quite nicely, stored away in the recesses of my mind thank you. Not even written down in a journal, or scribbled on a legal pad at my therapists office. They wouldn’t be very good secrets if they weren’t hidden now would they? What makes it here is intended for discussion. That’s why it’s here. Can I be any more clear?
I will never be offended or angry with a comment, text or call regarding my blog. Well… with some rare exceptions, but that really comes down to the PTSD and who does the saying of the things. lol. Special circumstances… For the rest of the blogging world, feel free to contact ME. PERSONALLY. It’s not awkward unless you make it awkward.