I Resent it All

I wrote this post a few nights ago, at the end of an anxious day (for no reason, other than I hadn’t had one for a while..) whilst falling to a bit of dark hole (a very dark hole). I ended up having what I refer to as a panic attack, when I get so emotional I just can’t stop. Can’t breathe. Can’t see out. It was mainly brought on by essentially flashbacking to my miscarriage confirmation scan, when I essentially flashbacked to the moment we found out Leo had died. So a flashback of a flashback, both times being told my baby was no more. Brilliant. 

I wasn’t sure whether to post it, after all, I don’t want everyone calling the men in white coats all at once, but as The Wife reminded me – this blog is for the honest telling of the story, not the polished version. 

If it helps, we’ve had a good few days since.

This morning we had to take a pregnancy test. To confirm everything is.. Whatever it needs to be after miscarrying. I was meant to take it last week. I’m only doing it because both the hospital and my GP have written to remind me after they failed to make contact with me on their follow up calls. Apparently they tried several times. Unfortunately I have no signal in my house and only picked up a message from them both. I didn’t bother phoning back. Avoidance.

I just resent it all. I resent having to take one. Having to add yet another depressing bathroom memory to the bank of depressing bathroom memories. I resent having to pay for a test. Not because I think someone else should, but just because I do. Because I just resent it all.

I resent having to confirm I’m not pregnant just weeks after confirming I was. I resent that I should be approaching a 12 week scan. Scrap that. I should be weaning a 6 month old. I resent having to do all of this after Leo dying. I resent that Leo had to die. That it took so long to get him, I didn’t believe in him, and then he died like some cruel fuck you from the universe. I resent how fucked up it is that in six months, I’ve lost twice.

I resent it all. I resent how it rips through everything. How grief affects every aspect of our life’s. Our friendships. Our employment. Our ability to socialise, to leave the house easily, to watch tv or walk down the street. I resent how it affects just my ability to talk easily sometimes. How it stops me sleeping, or exhausts me to my core. I resent how it means people we were once close too haven’t got a clue how to even approach us, let alone support us. I resent how we can’t just run away from it all and hide.

I resent feeling like a failure. Feeling terrified of life. Of the future. Of contemplating going back to work. How a concept that I’ve never feared, brings me to tears in an instant. I resent the anxiety. The fact that the world is still turning. How is that possible?

I just want to turn back the clock. How does this still happen? How is this not done evil myth of the past?

I just resent it all. Every last bit of it. It has changed everything about us. I barely recognise me anymore. I don’t know if I’m that person, if I can be that person.

I just want him back. I would spend all my days placing all the shells in the ocean on the seabed floor for miles in every direction, if it meant he could find his way back to us. Dory did it. Why can’t life be a Pixar film?

Do you think they know they are dying?

Did he give us a sign that we missed? Did he try and tell us? Was he aware? Did he know who we were? Why isn’t he here anymore? What did anyone ever do to deserve anything like this?

Oh, Leo.

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