Hurting where you’re at…

As part of a writing group challenge/link up, I was supposed to write on Hurt this week. This week… The week that my world has felt rocked in every negative way imaginable… This week, the week that I’ve had to confront every horrible feeling of abandonment from my own adolescence as my husband and I face horrible choices, as parents, that I just knew I’d never have to make.
This week, I don’t know how to write about anything but hurt. I also don’t know how to write about where I am. I think, most accurately of all, I feel like I no longer know how to write at all…

I am disjointed, broken, aching and throbbing on some metaphorical floor, while really I am numb and driving through daily details with reality hovering just over head. This reality, the blackest of dark clouds which funnel and threaten to destroy everything, it no longer scares me.

I am here, yet not. Tear empty and without thought… Nothing makes sense and I’m reminded that hard choices, tough choices, the choices that leave us hovering over the toilet as vomit spews from our mouth- those choices are the ones we never want, but will inevitably come at some point. I secretly wish that I could wake up one year from today and see that everything turned out ok, and that I handled these things before me beautifully. The scariest thing, (so I lied, I guess I am still afraid) is that neither of those things will be true.

When I lay bleeding in hospital beds, or bathroom floors, or that one time standing, in my neighbor Heather’s kitchen, miscarrying my babies- I believed I had never known a pain like that. Physically, I didn’t care what my body felt, but heart-wrenchingly that hurt was soul shredding… Years later when my sweet twin girls, who we’d had for 10 months and were adopting, were suddenly ripped from my arms, I revisited a different angle of that hell. Since I became a mom there have been many moments of ache closely similar, I guess because I’m similarly vulnerable, and because this motherhood journey has not been an easy one. This past almost-year though, nearly every day has felt like some awful Groundhog Day version of those moments, twisted into something achingly unfair and worse. I haven’t the strength for many more seconds of this, I haven’t the water for many more tears…