This is the first entry of my first ever journal….. well online anyways. I’m going to try and put my innermost thoughts and feelings here. A way of expressing myself without fear of judgement. (well not to my face anways)
3 months ago, my beautiful 18 year old son, died by suicide. It has been the longest 3 months of my life. I feel as if I have been given a life sentence, where there’s no being let out early for good behaviour. The days are long and tiresome. I am, at most times, on auto pilot. However, a day or two ago, it suddenly hit me, I mean, really hit me. It’s not like I had forgotten, or playing at make-believe. I think I have been so pre-occupied with keeping busy that now I feel so completely overwhelmed.
Yesterday was the day I actually said to myself ‘I can’t do this’. ‘It’s too hard’ I can’t cope’
All I can see is this pit of despair and longing. For the tears to at least slow to a trickle. I know this is something I have to go through, But I shouldn’t have too, This wasn’t in the grand plan. The day my Son died, so did all the hope I had for him. As long as he was still here, there was always hope. I told him once, as along as we have faith, hope and love, we are the richest people.
Today, has been a particularly bad day. Standing at the train station waiting for my 15 year old to come home from school and feeling the tears come. Standing there, surrounded by other people. I had to leave, to compose myself. Can’t have my son seeing me like that. Crikey, No!
I need to find my own way out of this, It will come, I’m sure of it. However, I know this much. I will always be a grieving mother.