I was rereading some old blogs and saw this quote by Deepak Chopra that said that all great changes are preceded by chaos. I thought about it for a bit and realized this is indeed the case. Should I let the chaos loose, air it out, be fierce enough to become it to embrace the change that I’ve been waiting so long for? Become so colorful that my heart, when held against the sun shows the brilliance of multiple rainbows?

My heart. My heart is so colorful but it feels like it is mired in chaos. My lungs swimming – no drowning – in confusion, anger, hurt, betrayal, longing. Why must I go another day seeing the one thing I’ve always wanted being granted to others? Will the pain ever lessen? Will it always hurt? Why can’t I move on? Let go? I spent two hours yesterday trying to breathe in a place that told me my son’s heart was no longer beating hoping and praying that the results of my husband’s tests would not give me further bad news. My world began to spin and the ground became unleveled.

I think everything feels stuck. Some good. Some bad. Some Switzerland. It doesn’t feel as if I’m strong. I feel like I’m sleepwalking and don’t know how to wake up. I was told that I am my own roadblock. I suppose that is true for everyone. But, for myself in particular I understand what was being told to me. I do hold onto the memories of those precious weeks where my son and I bonded and fell in love with each other. Love has no boundaries and the love I had for my son, for all my children, proves such. Every ounce of me continues to hold Jax in my heart, in my soul, in my mind.

I used to be angry at God. Now, I just want to know why. Why not me? I suppose the only answer I will get – the answer I get from everyone – is the fact that God knows my heart and will give me the desires of my heart just not in the way I hope. I’ll be honest and tell you I hate when people tell me that. They don’t see my tears because it isn’t physical. No, my tears fall from my heart and have been drowning my soul for nearly a year. Patience has never been my virtue, but now, my patience will be tested until my last breath.

I realized yesterday that sometimes I can’t always be strong. Or pretend to be strong. Faking who I am has never been enjoyable and one day I hope that I’ll never have to. I know I just need to be able to let my guard down, add rope to my walls and climb down. But, the thing with that is, no one ever told me the grief for my son would feel so much like fear. Fear of falling. Fear of climbing the rope. Fear of opening the gates. No one told me the grief would build a shelter around my heart that not even the closest person to me can enter. Brave but broken. Weak but strong. All at once.

Now I battle between hope and agony. Between faith and distrust. Between happiness and fear. Between love and loneliness. Between moving on and holding on. The thing is I know the battle is not mine, it is God’s but if this pain was meant to be the stage for art, then my heart is an absolute masterpiece.

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