Love and Hate

I've been hearing the thought, "I love my life." It's been with me for over a month now. Three weeks ago, I realized that it was a cover, a lie. I go down the list and logically see that everything is pretty great. So, what the hell gives? "I don't love my life" is the truth of how in feeling.  In fact, "I hate my life" feels so much more true.  


And then I hear the thought today, "I don't want to be in pain." I initially tried to tack on the word 'anymore', but that too is a lie. It really is just that I don't want to be in pain. So what have I been feeling up until now that isn't pain, but a cover up of a lie that "I love my life"? Do I actually know what pain is? Of course I know. How could I not know? Unless I've never known. I've been told what pain is and I believed it. But is that actually pain? I'm a little too lost right now to tell. And I'm good either way.  There is some freedom here in not knowing pain. I have no expectations of something I don't know.

I grieve. I know what that feels like. In fact, it is with tremendous effort that I grieve now with this baby growing inside me that I am scared to death of losing. I have to be able to let go in order for Sullivan to be born. It won't work well otherwise.

So I've lit candles for the past three days - one for my dad and one for my miscarried baby. Her name was Amaranthe. She told me so in a dream. Amaranthe means 'love lies bleeding." I only found that out recently. But yes, it does. So I grieve for her.

My dad died in February. It was his birthday this week. We finally scattered his ashes this past weekend. I'm so grateful to have all the official goodbyes done. It feels like I can finally let go of what's expected of me and grieve deeper. Because, boy, have I grieved.

I see him differently now. I was so angry at him for so long. He never did know how scared I was of him. I kept him at bay being scared of me. But mom unexpectedly took me to the house I grew up in, the house he built.  And all I could see in the siding, the deck, the roof, the yard, everywhere, was how he wanted to provide for us, how much he loved us, how much he tried to give us the best, how I never said thank you for those things. I didn't know.

So I grieve and I have such fear.

And I live. And sometimes I feel like dying. And sometimes I hate. And sometimes I love. I am all these things.  

My husband wisely said to me tonight that he doesn't want to have to find something new about himself to change. Fair.

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I'm quirky, confident and happy. My friends say I'm generous, warm, reliable, and dependable. My mom, dad, and angel say I'm beautiful. I'm not perfect, but that makes me human.

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