I pretend that I am okay. I wake up in the morning I prepare
Mia’s food, get ready for work and drink my coffee…not without some frustration
and the occasional crabbiness, yet still trying to act like everything is well
and fine. I go to work and put on a good face and than I leave. Blasting music
is almost the only way I can handle getting home to keep my thoughts from
running wild. Picking Mia up distracts me and gives me a wonderful overwhelming
feeling of love that I try to keep entrapped as long as I can. However, it
never fails to come back to me, this overwhelming never-ending feeling of
loneliness and confusion. I knew that my relationship may not last but I never
expected for Mia to loose a parent. Regardless of what happened I always
believed in my heart that he would do the right thing, after all he has two
previous kids, I have seen the love in his eyes I know he means well….but 13
months later that’s not proving to be the point.
So many people have told me to move on, get over it, your
better than this, and blah, blah, blah. Well…I am trying. All I can do right? I
just can’t wrap my mind around what happened. Was it me, him, the alcohol or did
I push him too hard? No matter what I do my mind runs back to these questions
and thoughts repeatedly throughout the day. I may be in my car at home or in
the store, it doesn’t matter and it never seems to go away. I wish that I was
one of those people who could just move on, no regrets, here’s my path lets go.
But, I can’t. Maybe, its because I feel like its my mother all over again, or
maybe its because I can’t stand to be alone or what if its because I know no
one will get through to him. Yes, this is me. I analyze my thoughts feelings,
actions and basically entire life until I have driven myself completely mad or
I pass out (which usually comes first).
All I know is that I grew up with out a dad, and I never
wanted my own daughter to have to deal with that. This whole situation seems so
hopeless. I feel guilty like somehow I caused this. My normal go-getter, out
going personality has turned to hermitsville. I dread talking to people because
I feel judged or criticized or hated. In the south single mom hood isn’t looked
upon very nicely but up north well it wasn’t much better. Apparently, more than
one person believed that I got pregnant on purpose, as if I needed more judgment,
but people have opinions and truth be told when I was a kid I lied almost
inherently. Thanks to my mom it was second nature and something I have fortunately
grown out of. The trouble is trying to explain that to your family years later.
