Sometimes it makes it hard to get out of bed.
I hear TJ downstairs, eating with the girls, playing, taking care of them like a parent should do.
And I’m up here in bed. Aching with stomach pain. Wrestling with the fact that my spirit hurts more than my belly.
And I tell myself, go downstairs. Enter the world. Engage. Enjoy.
And yet, I can’t make myself move.
I want to wish the time away.
Wish myself to a future where I can feel in control. Where I don’t feel terror sitting in my living room, waiting for what I fear most to pop out from under the TV or enter the room in my cat’s mouth.
Wish myself to a future where I feel calm and content and at peace.
And yet I wish for today to last forever because while I will one day have a home I feel comfortable in, these days (ages 5 and 2 and 5 months) will never come again. Ever.
And therein lies the problem. Wasting away days that will never come again.
The pressure to enjoy and savor is sometimes too much.
So I lay in bed and listen to the laughter I so desperately wish to be a part of.
Another day having slipped away into the oblivion of yesterdays.
Gone forever.
