Whew…this one is going to be all over the place. I feel blessed, sad, mad, angry, sad, and know that everything is going to be “okay”.I don’t know what I wrote about last so I’m just going lay it all out. My brain is like scrambled eggs. I want to touch on what’s at the forefront of my mind and work it on back. Who knows. I probably will catch some crap for this. Whatever I care more about getting myself right than any of that nonsense. If my minds not right I can’t fully love. Forget that . That’s my greatest responsibility.
I found out today that my Long Term Disability has been denied against my psychiatrists advice. The main reason is because I’ve been working down on my meds. I have showed improvement over the past few months. That’s true. Improvement from what? Not wanting to get up, leave the house, and so many more unspoken thoughts and feelings. So since I can leave the house I’m ready to work full-time and manage people according to a medical team that has not ever talked to me? Bullshit.
I struggle with this frustration. I am so blessed to have been taken care of the past year by my job/our third party insurance. What a blessing. Dare I mention occupy? Anyway…I can’t go back to what I’m doing right now. I am not able to work full-time. My sweet Noah is having a hard time. Victoria is so strong but needs her mommy. What’s this have to do with me. Everything. I have a hard time being away from them because of PTSD. The best way to work through that is without medication and baby steps. Insurances companies don’t care about healthy holistic approaches to healing. If I were still popping 7-10 pills a day I’d get my full disability. I want to work throughout this and come out stronger. I like my battle wounds. Don’t say I’m okay. I’m not. I’m different than I was. That’s okay, but I’m not quit right.
I push myself everyday of my life to get out of bed and not lay there until someone takes care of me. I hate being away from my children. My PTSD comes and goes. It’s going strong lately. i have to control my hyperventilating when I see a baby that I feel is in danger. I want to puke when I get any phone calls. What will I hear? Any one can die. We aren’t immune. I need time to work through it…I’m trying to focus on the blessings that we have had through everything right now. I’m just gonna have to toughen up. I don’t mean that crappy.
Vic, Noah, and Dan have been doing that for the past year. I’ve been blessed by my benefits through my job. So many people work through a life time of hard knock. Why shouldn’t I? I want to be the glue for everyone. I want to be there to support them. Is it that? or to make myself feel at ease. I’m not okay. I don’t want to have to smile and nod if I don’t mean it…which is every job in the world. I’ll do it-I’m good at it…it just hurts. I just want to love. I’m not even doing that well at this point. Maybe this will help me. I might just build up a wall so I don’t tell everyone that asks how I’m doing.
I’ll tell you how I am. Easter was a bitch. I feel bad saying that but not feeling it…I think God can appreciate my feelings. Man, I miss my baby. When know talks about his babies he asks if they are going to die like Ashley. I say I hope not. Victoria wanted a baby sister so badly. We had one. She’s not here. This past weekend was more than bittersweet. We gave our baby back last Easter. Are you kidding me? That’s crazy to say. I can’t believe what we all have to go through this side of Heaven. I remember it all like it was yesterday. Ashley didn’t die until April 23. Easter was harder than I expected. We started to take her off life support on Good Friday, she died early Saturday, Easter was a blur, and we buried her the Monday after Easter.
Those memories are etched deep in our hearts and memories. I held her for hours after she died. I bathed her. Carried her down to the funeral homes Escalade in a little moses basket. My life less baby. Her body spent a day away from me until she was laid to rest. My little sister helped iron her pretty burial clothes. I asked my Aunt Ruth (Dad’s sister) to go with me to dress her. Craziest thing ever. Ever. Ever. My little baby laying on a table beautiful but lifeless. I dressed and diapered her. Can you imagine. I’m not okay. I want to hold her face against mine. I dream about it. I feel her through my children. I have shown a few people her funeral photos that weren’t there. She was and is beautiful. She looked so healthy and free compared to the previous month. Dead…she looked healthy. That hurt. I wanted her healthy with us.
Im done.
