It Hurts Too Much To Cry.

For the past few days, I’ve been having a really hard time.

My mind has been running wild as I’ve been trying to maintain everyday life as well as coordinate a graduation celebration this weekend.

Whether I’m prep-cooking, cleaning, driving… I find myself getting lost in the anger I feel over this whole mess.

I never felt trapped in my own mind like I do now, constantly having to force myself to stop and pray. I have to remind myself that things won’t be like this forever, one day I’ll be able to breathe.

It makes me so mad and so frustrated that so much is taken from us every day. Memories and happy times are put on hold until my niece has a voice of her own. Snatched out of our life before we even knew what was happening, taken from our family tree and so conveniently put into another. The anger makes my heart race, and I so often feel like I’m on auto-pilot because my thoughts would otherwise paralyze me. I just want some peace. I want this all to be over. I want to wake up tomorrow morning and have someone tell me it’s not real, that this new reality has just been some horrible mistake, it’s all been a nightmare I can now wake up from.

I’m so exhausted, mentally and emotionally, and physically there are so many days I just want to stay in bed, in the dark. It’s a revolving door of hope and heartache. One minute to the next is unpredictable. Any little thing can trigger it, and every time it hits, it’s like having my heart ripped out over and over and over again. (Thank you, Lupita, and may you reap what you have sown.)

The wound just won’t heal as long as my niece is in the dark about the circumstances of this horrendous adoption. I can only imagine the pretty-little-lies she’s being told. Actually I try not to imagine that because if I allow myself to, I will snap, plain and simple. The crushing weight of this hurt is enough to make the strongest person buckle at the knees. We’re all in so much pain, but we have to push through it, we have to make ourselves get up and out everyday. It’s all just so tiring, being trapped in this mental enigma, always having half of your mind preoccupied no matter what you do. Needing justice, vindication, wanting to scream at the top of your lungs that it isn’t fair and it isn’t right.

I’ve become so cynical and I can’t even help it. Wishes and dreams have been replaced by caution and suspicions. Can you blame me? I haven’t spoken to a neighbor in almost ten years, I don’t make eye contact because I don’t want to let anyone into that intimacy of looking into my eyes, I don’t talk to strangers and barely respond to them even though they’re always trying to talk to me. This person I’ve been forced to become is someone I never thought I’d be. I thought I’d always be outgoing, a social butterfly who couldn’t get enough fun or friends. The only people I have in my life are the ones that have been there for ten years or more, those who knew me before this drastic transformation. People who know how bright my light once shone. People who knew me when I could seemingly singlehandedly make the world go round.

It’s frustrating. It’s maddening. It’s consuming. It needs to be made right.

It’s been so long that I’ve felt this way that I don’t remember what it was like to not have to think about this. It’s hard to get through life carrying a huge bag full of broken pieces. Life goes on around you, and you can’t fall apart because so many others depend on you to be strong and in control. They look to you to let them know it will all be okay. Frankly, I’m surprised at my strength and endurance. Truth be told, it is God alone who has carried me because not for one day could I have managed. It hurts too much to cry, the physical pain of  the loss of a child actually hurts your body. It doesn’t just hurt your feelings and emotions. I never knew that it quite literally hurts to cry until this all happened. Just like it feels good to laugh, tears bring an ache that reaches the core.

I cling to hope. I protect what is left of my broken heart. I suffer quietly as I tell our story.

Can you blame me for how I feel? Do you pass judgment upon me because I don’t know how to handle this? Put yourself in my shoes. What would you do?….

One thought on “It Hurts Too Much To Cry.

  1. No I don’t blame u 4 how u feel. U have every right to those feelings and more. U have helped me thru the loss of my son George Jr, thank u!!!!! I can’t wait until Grace is able to reunite with u and HER MOM SERENA. Blessings to u and your family.


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