Every day I get up, take Gareth to daycare, get ready for work, and do all the normal things that people usually do. Eat, facebook, laundry, life. And that is fine and easy and the "every-day" has stopped being so incredibly painful.
Except when I see a dad playing with one of his children. And I resent him.
Except when I see a pregnant woman holding her belly. And I resent her.
Except when I see a couple holding hands. And I resent them.
I resent their blind happiness, their unknowing acceptance of their life, their ignorance of the painful paths being tread around them by me, by others like me. I resent that I appear to be a "normal", that a cursory glance reveals nothing of the devastating wreckage which I am trying to clamber out of.
I wish that Cliff was playing with Gareth out in public.
I wish that I was pregnant again - or could ever hope to be pregnant again.
I wish that I could be holding hands with my husband.
I wish that resentment didn't have such a stranglehold on me.
Please, don't take this as some sort of plea for you to remind me of what I DO have. I know those things. I am thankful for those things. But another thing I resent? People trying to hurry me out of grief, out of despair, out of the period of mourning that I have damn well EARNED.
Please, don't take this as some sort of passive-aggressive plea for you to hide the joys in your life. I love that you are pregnant, have children, have a spouse or partner who loves you. I love that you can play together, and I love that you may NEVER EVER KNOW this kind of pain that has tattooed itself upon my soul.
But right now, resentment is the first feeling I have, the gut-reaction that I must push through to experience anything else. Resentment is my veil.
And I resent that too.