I keep on getting picked up, by God, by friends and family, by myself, just to be knocked down again. It's wearing me out, wearing me down. Every time I think I can't take any more, something else comes along-a new hurdle for us, another person's good news..... And it's turning me into a person I don't want to be: Bitter. Jealous. Tired. Lifeless. Desparate. Sad. Just so sad.
Ever feel like you are living out a novel? That this cannot possibly be your life, but it is. Like you couldn't actually write this? That's how I feel. Every new chapter is a miserable one. Where's my happy chapter? I keep turning the pages thinking it has to be the next one, but it isn't. Every chapter contains somebody else's joy alongside my disappointment, frustration and grief. 18months since my son died. 18 months and no rainbow for me, but I have congratulated 15 other women on their pregnancies. Nearly one a month. Have you any idea how it makes me feel? A monthly dose of salt rubbed right into my gaping wound.....I am sorry if any of them read this and it upsets them. I am happy for them, I've said it before. I do not wish any of them anything but happiness and success. It's just that I want happiness and success too. All I want in life is to be a mummy again. I do not understand why I am being denied it. Not only denied it, but tormented by so many others being given the desire of my heart.
I wonder if I should just lower my expectations from life. Roll away into the gulley so I don't get picked up with the other skittles. Becuase, actually, living in the gulley is far less painful than continually being knocked down by bowling balls.