“Today is going to be o….” I began to type before deleting the message. Type, reword, delete, type, reword, delete….it’s a vicious cycle that you have put me in. Concocting novels to you used to be as simple as putting my fingers in motion, so why does a simple sentence feel like such a skill to grasp?
Towards the end of my last relationship I was talking to my best friend about how things were going. I remember telling him I could feel the coldness in the already rigid conversations. The lack of interest in each other’s lives being masked with “that’s cool” and on some days utter silence. “If you know it’s coming to an end why don’t you just say goodbye?” I’ve never been good at letting go. Goodbyes have always broken me. The idea of one night falling asleep with someone meaning the world to you, never imagining life without them, to waking up and having the feeling fled has always been so hard for me to navigate. It’s like you just wake up and no longer love a person. What brought you to this point?
Along this spiritual journey I have done many things to make “letting go” that much easier and less traumatic. I’ve taught myself that people, material objects, feelings they are nothing more than just “things” if you give them a special label and hold on to it tight it begins to romanticize it which makes it so hard to say goodbye, but if you cherish it minute by minute and tell yourself that it doesn’t belong to you it makes it that much easier when it’s time to relinquish it. Death is hard. It rattles every fiber in me, but I think having someone no longer want you in their life is harder. That slow distancing song and dance is heart wrenching. I have gotten better at letting go of things that are no longer doing me any good and draining my vibrations, But with you it’s different. You changed me and my coping mechanism way of thinking. I decided on you for an eternity of banter.
When I decide on someone I am choosing them for my whole life. Usually the good bits and the gory ones too. I don’t ever fathom the idea of distance or separation, but with a heart like mine that’s a dangerous thing. With every step backwards in opposing directions I feel a piece break off.
I slowly start to say goodbye to the thought of you and I. Each day creeping closer to the expiration date of who we used to be together. Pointed toes, fidgeting fingers, strung together with well thought out responses. What has gotten us here?
These four walls have never been the same since the day I found out about your existence. This white room, this porcelain tub…. none of it feels the same since that day. This was the room I first saw those two blue lines and this was the room I ran to after I knew I had lost you.
As I soak in the same tub I contracted in I feel so much pain. My heart aches and longs to just know any sense of who you would have been. You would be over a year by now. You would have a new baby sibling and the miscarriage would have never had the chance to happen. I feel guilty when I think of you. My heart broke just the same with the 2nd ectopic and the miscarriage, but for some reason my mind always wanders back to you. My first. My sweet Elowyn.
I thought I knew what love was before you. I thought I had felt a broken heart. But nothing compares to the love I have for you. The moment I knew of you I wanted nothing more but to protect my womb because I knew that was your place of survival. The soul shattering realization that the same body and person that was supposed to protect you is the same reason you aren’t here today. I’ve waited a long time for this pain to lessen. I remember people saying that it wouldn’t hurt so bad after awhile but there are moments when I feel a tinge in my stomach, the same fluttering feeling I would feel when I thought you were thriving inside of me, and suddenly it’s hard to breathe. I’m brought right back into that moment in the hospital when I had to chose between your life and mine. Ive been working hard on myself even though the doctors said that there was nothing I could have done differently it’s hard not to blame myself. I could have been skinnier, I could have done more yoga do eliminate stress, I could have taken more supplements. All these things creep in and I begin to blame myself. I want so badly to try again.
Being a mom and holding my baby is something I want more than the air I breathe, but the joy of pregnancy has been damaged and smudged with chemo shots and multiple hospital visits. Three pregnancies with three angels in heaven has made the thought and idea of pregnancy so traumatic I can’t even fathom what it would be like to bring my sweet angel to term when the time comes. In the months to follow I hope you stay close to me every step of the way. Trying to conceive is hard enough on its own without all the stress of making it past my dreaded 5 week marker. I know that you will be with me helping me through any negative pregnancy test or any slightest twinge I might experience when I do get pregnant again. My sweet first love. I wish you were here with me. Just know that I think and dream of you often.
The taste of last nights antics still lingering on my tongue when I woke this morning. The memories and darkness come creeping in. My soul longing for my next drag and drink. Anything to keep the sadness at bay. Overwhelmed and overloaded. Filling my life with anything to distract me from the fact that my heart is in a dismay.
Weekdays full of work, school, working out. Any down time results in clouds and rain. Get up and go for round 2. Keep on keeping on meaning keep busy so you don’t lose sanity.
To speak my pain into words would mean that it was real and it happened. I won’t allow it. I can’t let this break me. Not again, I tell myself. There’s a dark cloud hanging over my heart.
When the tears begin to fall I know it’s time for another diversion. Anything to create some confusion within myself to make me forget and be filled with something to hide me from my own pain. Illusion after illusion. I jut really miss you.
My mother has decided I have a drinking problem. I’ve decided I have a remedy for an excessive amount of bullshit and pain being dumped on me at any given moment. Enduring pain that would bring grown men to their knees. 3 pregnancies lost in less than two years. A family in disarray. And a love for a father who’s trapped in OZ.
The same thing that can save me is the one thing I’m afraid will kill me. Wants, needs, and desperation. Refusing to open up the slightest afraid that no one will understand. “Cheer up” “You okay?” Stifled with a witty remark.
Attempting to save myself from myself. This was easy the first time around. A false and inaccurate use of the word, but easier compared to now. With every day I got a little bit stronger. I relish for that feeling again. Jealous of the person I was before. Proud for mustering up to courage to push on.
“How do people help you through it when you shut them out?” How hard is it to make yourself vulnerable just to be unheard and misunderstood. Mistakes you can’t allow yourself to make. So you long for the next interference in your heartache.
The weekends creep in and you pray someone calls to fill the next two days with amusement and engross your time until the busy week approaches once again. The two days others long for are the days you despise the most.
Monday comes and your hands are idle no longer.
I look for signs in every part of my day. A beautiful humming bird is usually my Nana, a sweet dotted ladybug is your oldest sister Elowyn, those magical dragonflies are our sweet Jane, and yesterday when that butterfly entered our classroom…. I knew it was you. I wished and I prayed for you for a very long time. The short week I knew of you I loved you more than words could express. Pregnancy is a really interesting experience. You create this little miracle that you haven’t met yet, but you love it like your whole world depends on it and it alone. You want to protect it from anything that might cause it harm. Including yourself.
This time I was very proactive. I immediately contacted my doctor and began the pokes and the probes. With every prick of the needle I feared if this were the day I would hear that horrific word “ectopic”. I looked for every sign and symptom like the last. But nothing, until the bleeding came. I knew in that moment I had lost you. Shortly after I got the call from the doctor saying she was sorry, but my levels were fading and you were gone. I excused myself to the restroom and cried. “How could this be happening again?” ,I thought to myself, “How can God be so cruel?” I tried my best to compose myself deciding to stay and finish the rest of the day at work so I didn’t have to be at home alone. I went back to the class and began working trying to keep the tears at bay. And then there you were, a beautiful light green butterfly fluttering around our classroom. Looking for a quick way out as soon as you entered. How metaphorical to our situation. Just as quick as we said hello it was already time to say goodbye. I knew I had to be the one to set you free. I approached you and you did not fly away, i sent you all the love I had in my heart and I let you go.
At the beginning of finding out I was pregnant with you my biggest fear was ectopic pregnancy again. I knew that this time I wouldn’t have the heart to be the one to end your fate. My soul wouldn’t allow it. My biggest regret till this day that eats at me every moment of every day is choosing my life over Elowyn and Janes. The soul person put here to protect them was the one who took them from this world. I knew it would kill me to do it again so I would have to risk it all with you. That’s the conundrum of this whole thing. Yes I am very sad and hear broken that I will not have you in my arms, but I’m relieved that I did everything in my power to protect you this time. You are not leaving at the hands of me.
So I will be seeing you my sweet girl. In every passing butterfly. Sending you love and hugs with every prayer at night. You were wanted and wished for. Created with love beyond this worlds ability to express. You were just to good for this Earth and God knew it. I’ll dream of you until we see each other in heaven.
Love you my little butterfly
The world can be a scary place to live. Especially when you’re in jr high school. In school I got bullied a lot. I was the quirky kid. I had “friends”, but they always picked on me for being weird. Weird to them wasn’t that I played with Yugioh cards or acted out Pokémon in the field like the rest of the kids they labeled “weird”. My weirdness was the fact that I was nice. They would tease me trying to get me to react in a volatile way. Always uping it a notch further. The last straw was when my mom bought me this cheerleading outfit from Limited Too. I was so excited to wear it the following Monday because it was sports theme for spirit week. My mom was hesitant about letting me wear it to school because she didn’t want me to ruin it. After hours of heavy persuading I finally convinced her I would take good care of it. That Monday I strutted into school feeling so cool. I couldn’t wait for my friends to see me. I told one of my friends about my moms fear of it getting messed up and she laughed. During lunch we are on the bleachers, there was a lot of whispering and more side conversations then usual. I started to notice that I wasn’t apart of them. I packed up my stuff and began to walk off the bleachers when one of the girls behind me called my name. As I turned around another girl behind me poured a cup of juice over my head. I wanted to scream, but all I could do was cry. I kept asking “why did you do that?” “Did you do it on purpose?” as I sobbed. No one answered, they just laughed. One of the girls began to call me names, “you’re so stupid”, she said. I felt the anger start to build. Without thinking I punched her in the face. She fell off the bleachers. I had never felt so horrible in my whole life. That’s what they wanted. They wanted to kill my kindness and I let them win.
That weekend was my grandparents weekend to have me so I went over to visit. My Nana had heard how I was suspended and wanted to talk about what happened. I told her how the girls called me names and said I was too nice. That I was weird because I didn’t stick up for myself. I explained how I felt after they poured the juice on me and how cruel they were for laughing and calling me names after. I told her they had it coming. My Nana had never looked so disappointed. She said,” there will be times in your life when you get knocked down and you want to knock someone down with you, but don’t. You are a Cupples, your stronger then that” I knew that what I had done was wrong, but it felt good to make her pay for calling me names. “Don’t let the world change who you are. Only me, your papa, and you know who you really are and I love the Rissy you are. Don’t let it weaken you. Don’t let this world change that.” Since that talk with my Nana I have always tried to stay true to me. Never let the world or things that happen change who I am.
Struggling with trying to conceive a child and have it implant in the right location as changed me. It’s weakened me. I have been at rock bottom for a long time because of this. I find myself in this constant struggle of “fake it till you make it”. This whole ordeal has made me into a different person. At first I was trying to be so nice to people because I started to realize you never know what others might be going through so treat them with kindness. When I realized that was turning me into a doormat I began treating people the same way they treated me. Like total and utter shit. Ignoring them how they did me, giving them shit the same way they would, being very petty, lowering myself to their level. One day I took a hard look in the mirror and started to cry. I let the world change me. Every experience I tried to block and and keep strong I let in and make me into a person I am not.
If I’ve said it once in these blogs I’ve said it a million times, “rock bottom became the very foundation I rebuilt myself on”. I’m not perfect, I’m learning everyday just like the rest of you. This spiritual journey hasn’t been easy. It’s a journey. But I try not to give up. I roll with the bunches…… sometimes I’m just rolling for longer then I expected. Things that shifted me before aren’t shifting me in this present time so I will have to keep tinkering with things till I find what works for me to have my spiritual enlightenment again. It’s a process and a journey, but I’m grateful for the people along for the ride. I kinda forgot how gangster it is to be kind to everyone know matter what.
Some days I feel like I’m okay. That this experience has toughened my soul and nothing can break me like losing them did. Other days I’m not sure how much more I can take. Between the unkind world around me and the ache in my heart I feel defeated and weakened inside. I feel empowered to take the life that lays before me and turn this mess of raw emotion and my broken heart into something beautifully reborn and brand new. I begin my spiritual journey full of pep and positivity to be broken down once again by my imaginary memories in my mind. I envision them as small children maybe 3-5 so happy and full of life. My happiness and eagerness to push forward quickly dissipates. I’m sucked back into the darkness. Waiting in that dark, cold, lonely room for the shot that ends their short lives.
How do you escape the demons in your mind? I truly want to be happy again. Over the last 10 years since my Nana died I feel as if I’ve worked so hard to rebuild myself. I’ve fought to become the person I used to be. I feel as if with every triumph I’m presented with another obstacle. I fall into a self hatred phase and begin to blame myself for all the bad in my life. The unavoidable, nothing I can do about it things that just happen, some how in my mind become something I could have avoided or stopped. It’s a vicious cycle that is hard to escape.
I recently began yoga and meditation which in the beginning of battling my depression helped a lot. I know it’s just the start but I’m not noticing results as fast as I want which is making it harder to stay focused and continue with it. I find myself dreading going into work again. You can’t control your environment in society. You can’t make people be kind of positive. I find myself getting sucked into the bleakness around me. My happiest time being the walk of solitude to the place where I eat lunch and the after school bell. I consider taking a leave to just focus on me and rebuilding my happiness and positive energy.
My emotions are like a ping pong ball bouncing from wall to wall. Up and down, high to extreme low. On the verge of tears with any talk of pregnancy or babies. Fitting back my true emotions with my well rehearsed fake smile. I want so badly to feel as happy as I was the day I saw that one word “pregnant”!
I have so much to be looking forward to. My best friend is getting married, I was asked to be her bridesmaid, I got into a program for school that I’ve been wanting to get into for over a year, I raised enough money to cover my first test to see where The blockage that is causing the ectopic pregnancies is located; however, I’m so unhappy. I’m fearful of getting the test done and wasting my donations on being told that I am blocked and there is nothing they can do to remove it. Once again my mind goes to the worst possible answer. Sometimes I feel as if I brought this upon myself, always fearing if I was infertile and if I could ever get pregnant. Now my worst fear is in a way coming true. Yes I can create life, but I can’t keep it and protect it.
I’m looking forward to summer vacation. My first spiritual journey began to flourish during my summer vacation I believe last year. I have long days to myself to really focus on the me and the person I want to become. I can reconnect with my emotions and how to handle the good and extinguish the bad. I’m able to be one with Mother Earth and embrace all the beauty she has to offer. I’m hoping that’s all I need this time again. Just a little R&R to get back on the right path.
You guys have read my story. If you can help in anyway I would greatly appreciate it❤️ donate, share, send positive vibes!