I was reminded this afternoon that this time last year I was lying in my own blood as I miscarried. Not that I knew that at the time. At the time I just knew that I had arrived home from Bali in the morning, relaxed and happy, dashed off to have a pregnancy test, and home to prepare for my return to work the next day.
But that didn’t happen. I was convinced I had fallen pregnant this time. Had not stocked up on sanitary things, was in no way prepared for the amount of blood, the consistency of it, nor the constancy of it. Or the loneliness and fear that came with it. Still not sure I have come to terms with it. Not sure I ever will.
Because that day changed me.
In the year since I have buried myself in work and have really ceased to exist outside of that persona. My work situation made that easier, necessary really. It has been a huge year building a creative and performing arts faculty as well as coordinating our literacy program, and all of the other little bits and pieces that I do.
And I am not sure where I am or who I am anymore.
I love christmas, but I do not have my own family to make it wonderful for. I am the addition to other people’s families. Reminding me that I do not have my own to celebrate with; the perpetual loner.
And it will be the second anniversary, a few days before Christmas, of the passing of one of my friends. And there still isn’t a day that goes by where she isn’t in my thoughts.
Man I sound so negative. Usually I am happy. I am blessed with my life. Not just token words. But this time of year sucks. Even though I still maintain that there needs to be a channel dedicated, all year round, to Christmas movies; so much hope and promise. I think it would change the world.
Maybe I need to advocate that.
Christmas hope and cheer every day.
Not a bad thing.