Take for example, what Libby is going through. That's too big to blog about. I don't want to over-share when it comes to my baby girl, but it's true what they say about the second year being the saddest.
The first year is the hardest; you're just numb and ugly and bleeding everywhere. But its also the year when people look at you and get it.
The second year is the saddest because you've come to the realization that things will never be the same ever again. You have no numb in which to retreat. There isn't any buffer from the pain any more. You aren't necessarily bleeding from deep stab wounds, pumping blood out onto the floor, but instead your body is just weeping road rash. Everywhere you touch or where your body comes in contact with life is just raw.
This is when it's supposed to be better, so everyone has moved back into the rhythm of their own lives. Don't get me wrong; they should! Its just lonely over here by myself. I know that I'm not pretty to look at anymore. My tears have permanently stained my cheeks. I have new wrinkles and a ton of grey hair. I think about letting my hair go silver to show how I feel inside. I feel old. I am tired. I've lost the majority of what little fight I had.
Still I put on my bra and attempt to go through the day, feeling like it's a fruitless gesture.
It is a fruitless gesture.
This is the barren part of my life.
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