I am tired

It is so hard to stay focused.

I try to stay focused on work. On school. On Carter. On keeping my damn house clean. Remembering to eat. On just fucking breathing.

All I do is think of him. It still doesn’t feel real. My brain just tries to comprehend it and it just doesn’t sit well. I alternate between devastation and anger. The anger because this happened. To him. To us. To me. And anger that that man is still free because the county is still “reviewing” the case.

That is all I will say about that at this point. But are you fucking kidding me? With everything we know? You still need to review it?

I hate that I haven’t yet been able to get justice for my son. I know it won’t bring him back but maybe it will stop it from happening to someone else at the hands of the same person.

Maybe it is just because I feel so helpless. Like I am lost. Like I need to do SOMETHING to help with the pain. Like I need to do SOMETHING to help me feel better even though I don’t think anything really will make me feel better.

I want my baby back. I want my son back.

I want him back snoring on my couch.

I want him back laughing at the dog. Calling him a traitor because he loves me more.

I want him back here planning his future career possibilities. His future with his love. I want the possible grandbabies with gorgeous eyes, lashes, and dimples like he had.

I am so tired of feeling pain. Every fucking day.

I am tired of the anxiety that has started at the thought of answering simple questions from people I meet. People always ask about your kids. They ask how many kids you have all of the time. Patients at work ask. New friends. Coworkers. Doctors when you’re at appointments. People in the dating world.

That is now a very complicated question. And it is one that makes me really fucking anxious.

Do I still have two? Or do I have one? Do I say that I DID have two and now have one? If I say I have two, how do I answer when and if they ask their ages? Because one will age and one will now be forever frozen at 19. Never allowed to age. Never allowed to live the life that was stolen from him.

I hate that someone else has taken his life from him. That someone else has caused me to have such anxiety over such a simple fucking question.

That someone else has caused me to stress the potential anxiety my other son will always face when being asked about siblings and how to answer that question. Bryce will always be his brother but he shouldn’t have to answer that he had a big brother who died at 19 when he was only 12. Just like he shouldn’t be having to deal with this grief at 12.

I feel like I am rambling here but yet also feel like I am at a loss for words. Like I am so angry and upset and just lost that I don’t know what to say that doesn’t feel like a rambling mess.

I am just so…tired.

I am tired of missing my son.

I am tired of the pain.

I am tired of grief.

I am tired of feeling drained.

I am tired of seeing Carter in pain.

And the only thing that will help all of that is a big hug from Bryce.