Moving On

I told my therapist yesterday about my writing and how I sometimes bail or stop when it's too emotionally raw, or that I hate what I've written afterward, just despise the innards I've thrown onto the page. Perhaps its because I'm being too honest, perhaps I don't like admitting how tied to my emotions I am, I can't tell.

Unfortunately that's where I'm at right now. I'm emotionally raw and yet I'm writing. I'll probably hate this too, but I guess I just need a place for it. I've exhausted my phone-a-friend list, my husband is away on business and I don't know where else to go with all of this.

I just miss my son. I miss the weight of him, his smell, the way he breathed, the way he slept in his crib, the way he slept on me, all of his outfits, just all of it. It hurts so much right now. Emotionally, I'm there again, back at his service, at his viewing. It's like I'm forced to relive. The simplest things can bring me back to those emotions. I've been writing Thank You notes and the process of writing those notes forces me into the memories of his service, of being back at his viewing, of everyone I saw and all their concern and kind thought and it hurts all over again and I don't know where to go with all of it. I don't know how to turn it off either. I wish these emotions weren't so visible, so right at the surface, but they are despite myself. I see a pristine angel down the dairy aisle at my grocery store and it takes all my will and strength not to reach out and hug that baby and give his or her parents some sort of idea of how well they have it. And it takes every bit of my will and strength not to cry right afterward.

Sometimes I don't even have that.

And this week just feels like I'm being bombarded by tiny reminders of him. Some days I feel like I can compartmentalize, but today is not one of those days. Today I'm allowing myself to dwell and wallow. I wish I had some way to sum this all up, some big finish, but I don't. I'm just going to let this all be, emotional and raw as I had intended.