Another bad day, and I’m on the couch unwinding/decompressing because although at 10:30 I was exhausted and ready for bed, my dog escaped in the three minutes she wasn’t gated,  pissed on the floor again, and it ran underneath my purse, Mav’s diaper bag, and inside my bag full of color and developer. #fuckyoustella

I’m ok when I’m crying. I really am. I actually kind of have to be, and once it’s all said and done, it usually lasts around an hour and then I feel relief for a little. And I’m okay with my sadness, because it’s the blueprint for a love that once was whole inside me. What’s a little difficult is how quickly it washes over me, and how easily it comes flowing out of me. I used to have an easier time navigating,  think of it like an up to date gps system of sorts. Now my map has disconnected roads and longer routes, lots of road blocks and detours, rain, and shifty roadwork but I still have a sense of where I am.
Today was a very hard day. And I almost want to say shame on you Brianna. Shame on you for putting yourself out there in any way for anyone to assume you are “ok” because as “ok” as I am, I am still completely fucking lost. I’m writing this because my eyes are burning and my soul is seething tonight. Some days are just hard. Some days I want to sit in a pile and eat chocolate by the bar and drink wine in complete silence. I want to tell every single person who calls me to kindly leave me alone and just be there for me when I’m ready. I want to be so selfish and take time for myself. I want to drop Mav off for two hours and not feel guilt or rushed. In that two hours I want to make the 7 phone calls I’ve either ignored or haven’t made, get a pedicure and peruse Marshalls for the majority of that time. 
I sometimes talk to myself now. When something is making me mad I find myself talking out loud to myself. I repeat myself a lot. I start more conversations saying “wait tell me if I already told you this.” I ask my husband if it’s scary to watch me go through this; because as much as he has been a rock for me, he can’t go through this with me because he simply hasn’t experienced it. I can’t make a decision to save my life, (and it fucks with me hardcore, I have a full blown anxiety attack where my hands are shaking and then I know it’s just a matter of time before I’ll start crying so I just sit myself down and invite the tears to fall.) over what my plan is for my next day off. Over what I want to do this weekend. Over what to make for dinner. #hatethissomuch 

See the problem with grief is, you have one good day and everyone thinks boom she’s over it, she’s laughing. No. Dead wrong. It’s just that I’m sick of being sad and not feeling entirely like my former self and I need a release too. My work is an amazing outlet for me (work and Mav are the absolute remedy for me right now.) I get to basically make money for a hobby of mine every other day. I get to be creative and use my talent and release some pent up stuff. I get to talk to so many people in a day’s work that it’s more beneficial for me to do that then to see a therapist. Wanna know why? Because I believe a therapist won’t tell me anything I don’t already know. The one thing about me, blessing and a curse, is that I’m always so acutely aware of my issues, I just have a problem with acting on the changing to fix it part. I’m a stubborn, smart, confident, very conscious of others kinda girl, and I pride myself on knowing how to act in many situations, which brings me to what I think is my best quality: Being the (second) most empathetic person I know. 

So yeah, it sucks. My life fucking sucks right now. Of course I have the most supreme honor of being a mother to my Mav. Of course I have a wonderful husband. Of course I still have my dad and my brother my sister and many family members through so many beautiful marriages in these families I’m blessed to belong to. And of course I am SO FUCKING grateful for these things. But the loss of my mother has blown the bottom out of a very strong foundation I was standing on. Because I was standing alongside her. Because she always, always was there for me, even when I didn’t deserve that support. She stood next to me, and let me lean on her. She held me up when I was weak, or frail in my emotions. She pulled me when she knew I needed the extra encouragement. She pushed me when I needed some balls. God she had the biggest balls my mom. And when I didn’t want her to even do anything, she would go above and beyond and behind me to stand up for me, because I was hers. My. God. One tough woman she was. 

So I’m just sad. And it hurts my entire body. And it makes me cry. I’ve heard some noises come out of my mouth that have actually scared me. And sometimes, the absence of her? …..man. It makes me not want to go on. 

But she would pull me by my hair and tell me I’m going the fuck on, and she’ll let me know when it’s my time, because “she’s the mother.”

I just miss you. And I still needed you here. What about if I get pregnant again? Who will I call first? Who will come to my appointments with me? Who will help me and hold me through 43 hours of labor and 2 hours of pushing? Who mom? I don’t even care because it won’t be you and that kills me. What about when it’s late and I’m fighting with Dan and all I wanna do is talk to you because you just understood me more than I ever gave you credit for? What about Christmas? What about all the little special things we’d bring to each other on a regular basis because “we just couldn’t leave it in the store” it’s just so completely hollowing to know I will never feel your hug again. I still can’t call you. No more pictures. Karaoke nights. It’s all just a memory now. And I hate that now they’re only memories but I love them all at once. I promise I’ll always keep them safe. I promise to always keep your name fresh on my tongue. There is a place, so deep down inside me that longs to be your baby again. To relive our story all over. To cherish the love I felt from you. To give you more love than I did. The darkest corners of my brain have you in them. The deepest part of my heart is broken. I long for the day I will reunite with you. I feel less and more on a whole new level. I feel robbed and cheated but I know where you are this was all part of our plan as mother and daughter. I remember when I first had Maverick, and all I did was stare at him and tell him ‘I love you’ probably 150 times a day, you would say “I wish you told me you loved me as much as you say it to him!” And mama. I wish I did too. I wish I did too.