I met a woman the other day. An older, sweet, lovely, kind woman whom I will never forget. We spoke about having to put our dogs down, abortion, and overall traumatic events/feelings. This was a conversation I didn't know I needed to have. Something about hearing "You made the right choice." with the upmost sincerity and then being hugged, it made everything okay. We laughed together. We cried together. She even told me she loved me as a person simply based on our interaction. This woman quite literally made a huge difference in my soul. I wish I hadn't gotten so carried away... I didn't even get her name.
Mommy never got a chance to know you. She, I, was scared for many reasons. The details of why don't matter. They can't and won't change the fact that you're not here with me. Your father and I took what many are calling the easy way out. I can't explain how hard of a decision it was for me to make or how much it weights on me, even after all these years. Not a day goes by that I don't think of you. I'm constantly fighting off tears of loss, regret, guilt. I wanted you. I wanted to be your mommy. I was scared and weak. I'm left with the biggest hole in my soul. You took a piece of me with you that day. I tell myself I deserve this pain. I also tell myself that one day you'll come back to me. Return with that missing piece of my soul and forgive me for being so scared, so weak. That one day you'll be ready to have me as your mommy (again).
Until then, I love you - my sweet little.
Today marks 8 years since I entered that clinic and signed away your life. Today also marks the day I'd like to introduce you to Teddybear Snarfles. He lived many years before me and 2.5 with me, full of love and spoils. Today he is yours. I hope the two of you can bring eachother comfort and love.
Have you ever wanted something, someone you knew wasn't good for you? Like, you had no misconception of the person or thing changing for you - because of you - and yet, you still wanted it. How can someone want something so toxic in their lives? Why would someone want something so toxic in their lives? Is it a matter of thinking, "This is what I deserve."? Does it stem back to being a child and wanting something solely because someone else had it? Do you love the drama? Do you want someone else to lose or miss out while you keep the toxin in your life? Are you punishing yourself? Or do you simply not understand your own worth? Settling isn't happiness. Holding onto a brief moment from five... ten years ago isn't happiness.
If one is to believe that you create your own happiness then one must believe that you create your own misery as well. I read an article the other day that basically stated we stay in-contact with the past because of expectations. I text you, you respond. When emotions are involved the nature of that response does't matter. A simple hello turns into I miss you, leave me alone turns into I need to talk, and silence turns into anger or maybe you don't know what to say. All of these responses keep someone connected to you. The best thing a person can do for someone from their past is disappear, completely. If you can't or aren't willing to give the person what they think they need, disappear. Don't leave traces of yourself in their life. Don't respond ever. No emojis, no hellos, no goodbyes... just disappear. Actions are far greater than words.
While I want to believe in this article... it rang true to me on many levels I'd rather not divulge into. I also believe it only rings true for one side in every story. If both sides felt this, the situation would be a lot different. Some people are monsters and love to feed on the emotions of others but not all. I can't believe that everyone is aware of this and yet they keep responding.
As she laid in bed unable to sleep, she started to miss him.
She also began to understand that she was the reason it had to end.
It was her all along.
Each and every time, it was her.
She let go a long time ago and no one has been able to hold her since.
Truly hold her.
She was the reason for her loneliness.
Her unhappiness was of her own making.