Two steps forward, ten steps back

I should be sleeping right now. I actually promised someone I would be sleeping. And I am so damn tired. I am exhausted. I did try to sleep.

But it is a rough day. I got more details today. Reading them hurt. I feel like it pulled me back in my pain. Right back to 6 weeks ago, removing any progress I’d made and triggering the first full breakdown I’d had in a while. This is why I keep saying that grief is sneaky.

Anytime I start to feel like I *might* be advancing even a little, something pulls me right back again. It isn’t even two steps forward, one step back. It feels more like two steps forward, ten steps back.

Fuck. I can’t even explain how much it hurts. It is almost impossible to put it into words even though I am here trying to explain things to anyone who might be reading this. It is hard to find the words. People even often say that there are no words. But why are there no words? Why are we left feeling like we are alone with no way to process the pain even when we aren’t actually alone? Even when you have someone with you, holding you through the pain and tears. What is it about grief that does that to us? Is it simply that we feel alone due to the loss of person we are missing? The hole they have left in our hearts? Especially when it is the loss of a child. I made him. His father and I made him. He is half of me. I grew him. I provided him with life. I raised him. Nurtured him. Loved him. Supported him. Did my best to teach him how to be a good person and a good man. How to love. I might have also passed along some stubbornness, as did his father, but it made him HIM. It made him Bryce. The stubborn boy who with a loving heart who would do anything for those he loved. His parents. His siblings. His friends. He would do anything for all of us.

I have to sometimes literally remind myself to breathe. Like today during my breakdown. I couldn’t breathe and when I was, it was often erratic and irregular. It is hard to catch your breath and you have to concentrate on breathing.

Life feels like I am just going through the motions. I am waking up every day. I go to work. I take care of Carter. I am making sure he is okay. That he is going to his therapy appointments. His lessons. I am taking care of our animals. I am trying to stay motivated to keep the house clean. I am trying to stay motivated for school. I am taking my meds. Showering. Every day is just routine.

Routine. But not normal.

Will we ever have normal again?

I don’t even know.

I do know that I am tired of the pain. I am tired of crying.

And I just want my baby back in my fucking arms.