The fruits of my drawstring bag knitting labor:
Yesterday I didn't manage a Good Thing because I couldn't climb out of the Pit of Despair. Today I found the strength to claw my way out. My fingernails are ragged and bloody, but I'm out. For now. And that's a very Good Thing.
I ate breakfast at four thirty in the afternoon, and now I'm back, still with a headache from a late, late night and a late start with caffeine, but with more energy.

I found some blogs, and I will add those to the links page, so check them out. There are many blogs out there to take a person out of her own head, and I do love those.

It's so cold outside, and snow is covering the ground. Dark at six, which is terribly depressing when you only want sunlight and warmth, but there it is. Unless I'm willing to move to a warmer place, I'll have to suck it up. A few years ago, I loved Winter. Loved it. Loved the cold, the snow, the snugness of being inside in my nice warm house when the dark cold stayed pouting and harmless outside my window.

That, of course, was before the bad things began happening in Winter. Now, I associate pain and depression and horror with Winter. Because my brother and his family were murdered a few days before Christmas, and my baby died a few days before Christmas a year later, I'm afraid it's going to be hard to get through this time of year for the rest of my life without feeling so awful. I will try. Florida is out of the question, though it is tempting at times. But no, I belong here. My people are here. And if I've figured out anything over the last couple of years, family is what matters. Really.

Anyway, since I've decided to dwell on good, happy thoughts today, I'll get quickly off that subject. Off we go.

Oh, one more thing. Because of the stress, maybe, or a combination of the stress and my terrible diet filled with way too many sweets, I have developed a terrible...thing on my right cheek. Never before have I had zits. Well, this one is like the mother of all zits. I don't even know if it could really be considered a pimple, as it too big and painful for a mere pimple, surely. And last night, I realized on the left side of my face, somewhere between my upper lip and nose, another one is looming. I can't leave the house for fear of frightening small children. That's okay. It's too frigid out there anyway.

Tonight I'll settle in with a movie and pumpkin seeds, and not think about tomorrow. Tomorrow I really, truly have to buckle down and either finish a book or finish edits on the one under contract. I so need to do that. I need to something else, too, but I haven't figured out what that is yet.
I'm sitting on my bed in my pajamas, with my dog. She's funny, lying on her back in a position that looks like it would have to, if not break, at least strain parts of her body. But she sleeps calmly on, like she's totally comfy. I guess she must be.

I have a cup of hot coffee, and a bottle of water. I always drink water with my coffee. Maybe that's strange, but it's what I do. Nearly four o'clock pm and I haven't eaten anything. Now I'm thinking of what to eat. Breakfast food sounds good. Nothing major, just an egg and some toast, maybe. Or pancakes. How much better it'd taste if I didn't have to actually go make it!

I've been surfing for blogs to read, as I'm watching Sleepless in Seattle on my bedroom TV. I've found several that are interesting, and I'll put them on my links page.

After I eat, I'm going to think about something new to make. I've been knitting a lot of drawstring bags, but I have an idea about something else. If I start making them-and this involves fabric and sewing on my new little sewing machine which I have yet to so much as turn on-I'll blog about it. Maybe post a picture or two.

I'm determined that today will be better. Yesterday exhausted me; I cried all day. Today, I will be better.
She was always so happy. So loved.
Some days I feel like some crazy stranger. One minute I'm crying as an overpowering, horrible pain claws deep grooves into my heart, shredding it into what I hope will soon be a numb lump of hardened muscle that won't make me hurt so much, and the next I'm googling psychics to try and find someone who might tell me my little girl is happy and wanting me to know that she's waiting for me in the afterlife, her, not her as a star or a blade of grass or a frigging cloud, but her. My daughter. She's there, waiting for me. I want to tell her I love her, again. I want to feel her little arms wrapped around my neck.

I'm so mad. so enraged. Confused, lost, sad, so very angry. I'm not even sure who I'm mad at. The doctors and nurses, for sure. But in general, I'm mad at the whole world. Not all the time do I feel this bad, but right now, today, I do.

Last month, when my baby died, I printed out things I'd found while scouring the internet, things that make me feel calmer when I reread them. I'm rereading them right now, hoping I will once again get through this day and tomorrow will be better.

"If I lived a billion years more, in my body or yours, there's not a single experience on Earth that could ever be as good as being dead. Nothing." Dr. Dianne Morrissey.

That usually helps. Maybe not right this second, but it does help.

Did I appreciate her enough while she was here? It doesn't feel like I did. Probably because when our children are alive, we don't think of what it will be like if they die, because that isn't something that can possibly happen. No. They'll be here with us for as long as we're alive. Now that she's gone I think, why didn't I hold her in my arms every single second of every day, just appreciating the fact that she was here with me? Why couldn't I keep her alive?

Did she know how to find 'the light'? Did she leave her body like they say they do, those people who have near death experiences, and float up by the ceiling, wondering why mama wasn't talking to her, wasn't even seeing her?

In the same month last year, my brother was murdered. Because this was such a harsh coincidence, these two that I loved so much going in the same month a year apart, I want to believe that was God's way of letting me see that my baby wouldn't be alone, that my brother would be there to help her, to take care of her until I get to be there with her. He'll explain to her what's going on. This brother was the one who took care of things when he was here. Now he's taking care of her.

I probably seem crazy to anyone reading this. That's okay. I feel pretty crazy.
Tomorrow will be better.
I'm so sad today. I want my baby. I just want my baby. I can't have her, and I want her.

I looked at pictures of her earlier, pictures of her in the hospital, at home hugging her dog, of her making the cutest faces you've ever seen, smiling, happy, alive. And I want her back. God! I want her. Sometimes it's just unbearable. I miss my baby. She was so special. I didn't have her nearly long enough. Forever wouldn't have been long enough. I hope I see her again when I die. I have to see her again. I just have to. It's what keeps me going. I can barely stand the fact that I have to wait. I might be here for years and years. Long, empty, daughter-less years. I miss my baby, so much.

The sound of my son's laughter.
I did edit a little today on my contracted ms. Also heard back from another publisher stating they would get back to me in March concerning a book I'd submitted to them in November. I need to write. I do hope I get the desire back. You'd think writing would be the one thing I could do, that I would want to do, to lose myself in.

This is where I have to remind myself that it's okay to take some time. I'm allowed to take some time. So I can't write right now. So what? Don't worry about it. I'll get it back.

And one of the most important things I can tell myself right now; It'll be okay.

Lunch was good. I ate something I don't eat a lot of; a thin-sliced bologna sandwich with cheese, mayo, tomato, and lettuce. I also had chips and a salad with it. It was happy food, somehow.