Fake

I'll never get use to the pain, the missing, to Damon not running around everywhere in my life. I'll also never get use to the dissociation. 

I hurt, like crazy, all of the time. That's normal for me. It's normal for me to have to live divided, because if I didn't I couldn't. It's normal for me to always feel outside, separated, and sometimes thoroughly fake.

It's August, every 30 seconds I think about my little boy who should be turning four. I constantly wonder what he would be like. He's even more on my mind than usual. 

And I have to drive a research project and get an amazing eight year old ready for third grade and spend as much time as humanly possible with my precious rainbow baby and be wife to my husband... So no one sees it. No one sees the cracks and the holes and the blood gushing from my wounds. 

It feels like I dishonor him when I smile and have normal conversations about the weather. My insides are screaming and my outsides smile. I'll never get use to the dissociation. How can a person be both alive and dead? It's a particularly torn existence. The person I present to the world is so different from the person who is bound by this pain.

I'm not even sure what's real anymore.

Until next time...