The Big Truth

So the first week after the boys died, the tears just flowed.  They usually came without warning.  Something would set them off, like seeing a minivan, or a new born baby.  Sometimes they happened for no reason at all.  The pain just seeped out, literally, seeped out of my eyes.  As the weeks passed, the tears became less.  I didn't cry very often.  I could talk about it like it happened to someone else.  Like I was some volunteer at the library reading some one else's story.  I began to feel distant from it.  This is not the first time I have distanced myself from grief.  I have lost both my mother and father and did the same thing.  To this day, I do not think I have ever really processed my feelings about losing my parents.  I did not want things the same way this time.  I wanted to deal with this head on and go through it.  I felt like I owed this to my children.  So, I found a grief support group and started going weekly.  The first week was tough.  I cried.  I was saddened by everyone's story of loss.  These people have since become like a family for me.

After a few months of going to "Grief" as Brett and I call it, I found myself distanced from my emotions like all the other times of loss in my life.  I started to wonder what was wrong with me.  Why can I not feel like everyone else?  My new grief family cried most every week.  Genuine, honest tears.  Me, nothing other than I was creating and have created a bond with my new "family".  Then came the anger.  And man, am I angry.  I think mostly I am angry at God.  Why give me three little perfect boys, then take them away?  I am angry at  myself.  I am angry at my friends.  I am angry at my family.  You name it, I am probably mad at it.

Where has all this gotten me you ask?  Well, I will tell you.  Fat!  I was fat before, but nothing like now.  See, where most people feel their grief, I feed mine.  Now, hormones have been adjusting and the stupid doctor put me on a birth control I should have never been put on, but I can't blame it all on that.  I have never been one to diet or work out, and let me tell you, I don't want to.  All I want to do is eat, sleep and be angry.  It has gotten out of control now.  I knew it had, but some of my dear family has decided to point it out to me.  Gee thanks!  You think I do not see the disgusting cow I have become???!!! Let's add guilt to my already compounding anger.  Nothing fits, and when I say nothing, I mean nothing but my maternity clothes.  Let me just feel the pain of having to wear maternity clothes when I have 3 dead babies.  I feel too embarrassed to even go out in public, which leads to isolating.  I am so mortified that all people are going to see is a fat person and think "Oh My God", that I am deliberately pushing people that care about me away.  So there, I have said it.  Now if I could only find a inkling of strength to do anything about it.  Here is something you skinny people should think about before you judge a fatty...we have feelings too, and we feel better when we eat! 

I said in my first post that I was going to be as honest as possible.  And, I am trying.  It is really hard to write about how absolutely miserable I am in my own skin.  It is embarrassing and painful.  It is even more painful when people point it out.  I know, I know, they just love and care about me, but some of the things that have been said are very, very painful.  I do not know when I lost the ability to cope without food, but I have.  I feel ugly and unlovable.  I struggle with depression, and I am truly depressed.  These are not things I could ever talk about to someone other than a licensed psychologist, so here I am writing them.  I have not come to a place of any motivation.  I wonder what is wrong with me.  Most people would see themselves in my situation and start dieting and working out.  I am just not there.  Depression is exhausting, and I am exhausted.  It is a vicious cycle I have found myself in.  Not much different from every other fat person's story you see on TV.  Maybe somewhere deep inside I don't feel like I deserve to be loved or am worth loving.  I feel like I have failed miserably at the one thing every woman should be able to do, and that is give birth to healthy babies.  So while I am wallowing in self loathing and hatred, I think I will call it a night!