I decided to stay in the fitness program I signed up for. Trust me, after last weeks fiasco I was ready to quit but Stephen said he would stay at home with Bee while I went to class and I know I need this for myself so on I go. Plus, we've really enjoyed going swimming as a family with the free pass.
I packed my bags to head to class today and for some reason I was still really anxious, to the point of almost puking again. I think it was because all I could think about was last week and how horrible I felt, how much I hated myself for putting Bee and I through that when neither of us was ready. But again, on I went. I do honestly want to get in shape and I know it's important for me to be the best I can for Bee. It's just really hard when the anxiety flairs up and all I want to do is sit at home rocking my baby girl, crying, and holding her tight. But I went.
Class went well, but it happened. It meaning, people stare at my tattoos and when I look at them and catch them staring,, they look the other way. They don't approach me, they stay away from me, avoiding me at all possible costs. I try and smile, talk but it doesn't go well because no one wants to talk to the girl who clearly has been through hell. No one asks questions, no one says Hi, how are you. They just rush away like I have the plague. I use to think it was me, I've never been a social person but I've really pushed myself a lot the last few years and sometimes no matter what I do, it happens and people flock away.
I ,know my grief defines a part of who I am, but I would like to think I am more. I mean I'm also a "new" parent and I feel I should do some of these new parent things but no matter how hard I try, no matter what group I go to or join, it always happens. I am branded. I sometimes wish I could always wear long sleeves to cover up my tattoos and perhaps if I moved to Alaska, that would be possible, but it's not. Sometimes I wish I could protect my boys and only share them with those who are gentle, with those whom are close to me. Sometimes I wish I could "fit" in, I wish I had the happy, joyful experiences all new parents had. But I can't. It's not like I wish to be popular, I've never been nor have I ever wanted to be. I've always become friends with those others don't like or make fun of and to be honest, their some of the best friends. Yes we have gone our ways but their friendships provided me a lot more and were deeper then the fake friendships of being popular.
But it hurts, oh how it hurts so much to be left on the sidelines. To be the one no one wants to talk to or everyone avoids because they don't want to go there. They don't care to know the dark place I have been , they don't care to see who I am because it makes them afraid. It hurts that after all the work I've put into trying, I'm still rejected because of it.
After today's class I feel like quitting again, I feel like throwing in my towel but I won't because I need this for me and I need this for my family. I cried the whole way home because of how hurtful peoples actions are. They think not talking to me or asking is the best option when little do they realize, it really hurts. I know they don't understand my pain, I know they can't fully understand why I have so many issues with leaving Bee, where as some of them are like FREEDOM! I can't do it and I know they can't fully understand why but it doesn't mean I don't care to talk,, it doesn't mean I don't care to check in, talk about new parent things, sleep deprived babies etc.
Its the same reason I stopped going to my PPD group, I simply could not sit there any longer and listen to them talk about getting back to normal. All these mothers who either went on meds or not, talked about being back to their normal selves. I will never be my "normal" self again, as I'm sure most new parents aren't either. But there are things that unlike most new parents, I will never go back to, no amount of medicine can help me with that. I'm still trying to find my new normal and it's hard when others reject the hurt, damaged and bruised. It's only the other hurt, damaged and bruised that I seek comfort in, that aren't afraid to look at me and ask about my tattoos, share my story, share their's and you know what, after that we talk about other things. Grief is not always who we are, we are more as people and I think others forget that.
I've never really had a lot of friends and it's mostly been by choice, but the friends I had and still have mean a lot to me. However, I have learned through my grief who my true friends are and who my acquaintances are and I'll admit, I was a bit surprised and hurt. Some may say I am over reacting, but I would invite you to come and watch, you'll see it happening. You'll see the stares, the avoidance, the rejection, it's there, I'm not making it up. I suppose I'm just set for a lonely road in life, stand by my close friends which really is all that matters.
Lord knows I am not pushing myself anymore, that just turns into a disaster! And on that note, it sounds like the cat pooped on the floor, better go check.