Thursday, December 18, 2014

Please come home for Christmas....

Christmas. 
It's supposed to be such a joyous time. 
Surrounded by family and friends. 
Exchanging of heartfelt gifts for each other. 
Food made with time and love to nourish all. 
And for whatever religion you practice, just an all around reflective time on the last year, those you love, the hard times you endure, and the happy times you celebrated. 

But for the family with the empty chair? 
It's a deafening emptiness. The kind that even in the fullest of rooms, booms. 

I think of your first Christmas in existence. 
It was a joyous one. 
Anna belle got lots of goodies from Santa! 
He even got you a cute headband and matching shoes!! 
Your cousin Lydia was finally cleared from the hospital and was ready for family lovings. 
Everything was seemingly perfect. 

If only I had known, in 76 days all that perfectness would be ripped away. 

You would be buried in your headband from Santa. You would never get to wear those cute matching shoes. You would never get to tear open wrapping paper. Be more interested in the boxes than your gifts. 

Your abscense is almost like a shadowy entity. I see it. I feel it. I am always aware of it. Yet there's nothing I can do to make it go away, To cover it up, Anything.

Yet in the same sense I think of all you do get to experience on this holiday! 

In my mind, it's a feast! Surrounded by only the best. With all your tiny hearts desires. 

While it's hell here on earth, I know you're growing up with the best beyond my wildest dreams! 

But even that tiny bit of comfort doesn't ease the pain of missing you sweet angel. 


Monday, December 1, 2014

Why is my reflection someone, I don't know.

Before : 
This is me before. I've always thought of myself as pretty, nothing spectacular. Just a fortunate face with a hard earned body. Add in the tan and long hair and wahla. That was me. I never really struggled with my body image. Because I always considered the source of the negativity. That was all before. 

Now : 


I still have that simply pretty face, and a remarkably nice body given I've now had two children. But I can't see it that way. 
I look in the mirror and see this skeleton of a person staring back. I see the bags from lack of sleep. I see the stress lines. I see this body that failed me. A walking crime scene. It's so hard to be happy or find joy when I carry the murder weapon and scene of the crime with me every nanosecond of every day. 

How can I be happy if I truly hate the body I have to live in??


My depression has been worse for the holidays lately. I pray my sweet family makes it through this huge slump. 

We sure are feeling the depths of the hole you left when you slipped away. 

Forever missing you my sweet diva.