I've been reading some of the comments people have been leaving on the blog, and it is truly one of the only things that makes this awful place livable. I feel fortunate (?) to know people, if only via the internet, who are also on this hell-path. It calms me. I think I often get a little panicky that I'm suffering alone here, that there's no one to really talk to about it, to bare my soul to, without qualifying it all first. Or trying to describe everything I'm going through to people who want to be helpful by listening (bless them), but can't understand. I always feel I have to end my sadness on a happy, hopeful note with them because I know they're sitting there feeling so worried, or so hopeless for me, and I can't stand that. I can't stand the pity. When people ask 'how are you doing', what they really want to hear is "fine" or "getting better". Not "well, today has been absolute shit, and I wish the ground would open up and swallow me" or "it's actually horrible, and I can barely open my mouth to speak the words to tell you about it". Nobody wants to hear that. I don't even like saying it. I hate the reactions. I mean, I understand, people are trying to be sympathetic, compassionate and everything, but if I really told them how I was doing, I get the feeling people might secretly be thinking "oh fuck, get over it already.. it's been x months.." I feel like Eeyore when people ask, and I'm honest about it, realizing I rarely say I'm doing "well". I'm often doing okay, which is a good day. Sometimes I'm doing pretty okay, but most often, I'm downright miserable, sad, angry, resentful, jealous and lonely. Not a lonely that is cured with company, but a kind of empty aloneness that permeates to the bone, and feels like I'm the saddest person in the world. It sucks.

So anger. Is this the time when the anger phase is supposed to begin? At 5 months? Because I've been angry like never before. I think I blogged about this last time, but I can't be bothered to go check. Besides, it's what's on my mind, so here it is. I can't seem to get through the day without being pissed off about something. And I'm not talking about being angry about hitting red lights all the way home. I'm talking about seething red anger, and feeling rage towards my husband for killing an ant with my notepad (though this was pretty stupid on his part). Totally irrational anger. I know anger is one of the grief phases, but I don't know if it applies strictly to the loss, or runs over into anger in daily life. Hopefully the latter; then I'm still somewhat normal.
I don't like myself much these days. I'm angry so often. Angry at my son, who is so damn argumentative and antagonistic lately. I seriously think he's somehow irreparably traumatized by it all. It's not an outward display of grief, or mourning though (or maybe it is. I have no idea what's going on in his 4 year old head). It's more like a reaction to our behaviour. He is aggressive, uncooperative, disrespectful and stubborn SO much of the time, it drains me mentally and emotionally by the end of the day. Completely. Sometimes, I just want to crawl into the bed, pull the covers over and leave it all behind. I really do. That sounds so amazing. But then, I'd be totally alone, and that's worse. Even when he's being an asshole (sorry, I really do love the kid) at least he's there, and I can reach out and touch him. He's real. Yeah, I'm a total head case, you're all thinking it, I'm sure. :)

So... for those of you who are reading this who've had infant loss, did you reach a point where you thought you just weren't coping? Where more of your day was bad than was good? What did you do? Did you talk to someone? Or is this just my new life, and I am yet to discover it? How long does this anger phase last? I am so sick of being me, I just want to be someone else for a while. Someone whose most difficult part of the day is a burnt casserole... or being stuck in traffic.
I am so beaten down from feeling sad. From grieving my little girl. From being on the verge of tears while everyone around me goes on with life, thinking I am too, when I am truly not. I am in a glass box, watching it all, in it all, yet so incredibly alone. I hate this.

Sorry this is so melancholic. I am trying to think of positive, hopeful things to say to stop those who read this from freaking out thinking I'm about to jump off a bridge. But it is what it is. Some days there is just no point in pointing out the positives. They just don't matter sometimes. I'm not just having a bad day. I still can't believe this happened sometimes. What a god damned rip off.