Suffering in Silence

Today just seemed to be full of reminders. I guess it was just the way the wind was blowing.  But everything was reminding me of the pain of the loss: it was like a fresh sack of bricks was hitting me in the gut. Songs on the way to work, people at work talking about pregnancy, pictures of small babies on Facebook...I was more than a little overwhelmed.

I know that people go through this everyday, but I'm really not sure how they function as a normal human after the fact. I guess it's just one of those silent crosses we bear, just like any other kind of pain or depression. And it's hard. So hard somedays. I don't even know why at times.

I can't let it get me down. I can't let it consume me. I can't let myself go back to ways of the past. I've grown up now: I've got other people that require me to care for them.

It's just this feeling of emptiness that I was supposed to be growing something right now. It would be getting close to being able to see, feel, hear. But instead there's just...nothing...

It's funny, too, that all of this struggle is reminding me of middle/high school. That was a different kind of pain and hurt, but some of the emotions feel the same. There's still this feeling of blame; a feeling that it's my fault the whole thing happened. There's a feeling of being alone; a feeling that I can't really share the truth and the emotional toll because either nobody would understand or nobody would believe me at all (or worst of all that nobody would care). There's the anger, there's the fear, there's the confusion...it's all there. But this isn't an abusive relationship this time...this is just the loss of something I'd only known about for a brief time, something I'd barely had time to grow attached. So why are these emotions the same?

I don't know who I can turn to at this point: most of the people in my life now don't know about that past. It's something I've tried to push as far back into a corner or a bottom drawer as I could. My parents spent who knows how much money on meds and therapy without ever really knowing why. And here we are again...something's happened that I just can't handle telling my mother. I can't deal with that overwhelming suffocation of wanting to know every last detail and all of the sympathy so thick it must be a show. I won't do it.

Eventually it will go away, right? Until then I guess I will just suffer in silence.