The loneliness of miscarriageMay 5, 2009
Sometimes, like today, I feel like a freak as grief attacked me in the middle of the day at work. I sat with an odd expression, far off and lost. Someone made a joke about a good looking co-worker and I must have looked at her with a strange expression for she mumbled I was just kidding Kate…
I feel like my husband is tiring of this continuous grief. I feel like people wonder when the hell I’ll move on. How many times can someone nod their heads with sympathy? How many times can they see my distant expression and feel compassion? They must wonder: She smiles and laughs one minute and the next she looks suicidal. How can I explain this to anyone when this baffles me too? There is only so far anyone can travel with me in my grief. They can follow me to a point- and then I must walk the rest of the road alone. My pain is private and only I reside within its reaches. Only I know how empty my heart is, how profusely my soul bleeds. I hate grief and how it can wreak havoc within me casting its shadow onto my exterior expressions despite my best attempts to hide it.
My mask is cracking. I’m tired of wearing it. I just want to be whole again.
Sometimes, like today, I feel all alone. I want a hug. I want someone to promise me it will be allright, and I want them to mean it. I want to melt into nothingness, numb to the pain that resides with me. Loneliness is an island, and though I am surrounded by people- in the end I am truly alone.