I’m not ok.

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Today marks the end of Baby Loss Awareness Week, this is always honestly really hard for me as it brings up memories at the wrong time of year as it takes place between miscarriage number two and three.

For those of you that don’t know I nearly died from the second triggering a change of events which lead to a PTSD diagnosis, the first anniversary of my third was just last month, so right now I feel like I can’t get a break from it.

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To my third child.

I’d like to start by saying sorry for not being as active, I’ve been rather down about Mothers Day, which has been seriously affecting my mood and almost two weeks later it is now the due date for the child I miscarried back in September.

The darkness has swallowed me up these past few weeks, to a point where I can’t do anything but sit in a darkened room staring into space, I can’t be of any help to anyone right now

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My Mothers Day

I will not get a card from my kids today,

No flowers will be delivered on this Mothering Sunday,

I will not wake up to breakfast in bed,

This day will always be one I completely dread.

I will not receive the customary perfume,

My day will be filled with constant doom and gloom,

I will not hear that I am the best mother in the world,

Choosing to stay on the cold floor broken and curled.

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Self Sabotage

I cannot stop, I feel as if I have been hit by a bus but I cannot stop, because if I stop I’ll think about things and if I think about things I won’t be able to keep going. Is it even worth it? I feel like I am getting nowhere, my mind is in pieces and just when I think I’ve finally cracked the puzzle more pieces get dumped on top of me.

I don’t seem to fit anymore, I can’t find that passion that fuels me, I don’t know where I belong anymore. I wanted to give answers to those people who are going through similar things from my past. But I am not healthy, I don’t have answers, and I definitely do not feel better; pain is all I feel.

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The Lone Warrior

The lone warrior walks throughout the land,

Trying to find a connection in something he can’t understand,

He walks along the abandoned halls,

Thinking of the long forgotten masquerade balls.

Searching for the answers to his many questions,

Even the slightest hints or suggestions,

He braves the highest mountaintop,

To the loneliest little grocery shop.

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2018

This year has brought a lot of low points, like some really terrible moments where I’ve felt as if my heart has been ripped out of my chest terrible, but I thought I would instead today focus on the positive moments I had throughout last year to show, mostly to myself, that 2018 wasn’t really that bad.


Opening up

I had started seeing my therapist in December 2017, but it was only a small trial session we had, but in 2018 we really truly started the work on my mental health. We don’t talk diagnosis, but instead, I can just go into her little comfy room and talk about whatever has bothered me. For the first few months, the sessions were dedicated to my abuser, but I would deflect a lot.

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