Seven years ago my life changed forever. I don't think it's when my trauma started, but I know it's when it deepened and I don't know if it's ever truly begun to heal... It was around one in the afternoon when my water broke. I was only twenty-seven weeks at the time. Horrified and screaming on the inside, but as calm and cool as a cucumber on the outside. I never liked to show my emotions.. I still don't really like to. But I've been trying to detach myself from the stigma that showing you care is a sign of weakness. That within reason, letting people in and trusting them isn't being naive. And that more often than we'd like to admit we need to be able to share our feelings without fear of judgement or persecution from the ones we love. I didn't know what May 2015 would really bring just yet. Certainly flowers though, right? But I don't remember seeing any that year. The day after you died we had a storm. And for me, that storm lasted three years. But even after it ended, it never really ends. Every year just like clock work I start to feel all those same emotions swell up all over again. The nightmares start flooding in during the middle of night like unwanted "hey stranger" messages from a guy you used to date in high school. Then suddenly it's like you're there.. back in the moment. Right before everything changed. But now you know the outcome and you're forced to relive it over and over again. And yeah, sometimes it goes away for a while.. the year goes on and so you. Until that day. For me, that day is today.
Be kind.
