Get ready for a rant.
What do you do when you're seething with anger and can't seem to simmer down? Living with anger and disappointment is no way to live but one has to cope. You write and write till the toxin is expelled. Till the rage sears its ugly head again.
What triggered my anger?
I was just hanging clothes out to dry when I switched to auto-pilot mode. Conversations and scenarios started appearing in my head.
Why is everyone's life so perfect and mine so screwed up? I know, some of you won't even read past this sentence and have pressed the back button. Another rant from an immature writer having such a skewed and narrow perspective of life, blah blah. How can she assume others are having such a perfect life? You know nothing!
Yeah, yeah. As you can see my favorite hobby is assuming and conjuring up what others will think or say of me whenever I utter something seemingly foolish. Who's "others"? My ex-friends, the judgmental world and the so-called divine being.
Ever since my second miscarriage late October last year, things have changed. I have changed. Quit my stupid job, left my community of "blessed" friends, cut my hair pixie style and become a believer of fate instead of faith. Urgh, somehow I keep hearing the positive guru's mantra, "Your tragedies in life do not define you," "Change your perspective and your life will change"... oh shut up! My life is not dictated by what these sunny-disposition people preach in life, my life is mine to live however I want it to be. It's tough enough having no control over your womb, so I'll make do with other aspects of my life.
These tragedies currently define me, my thoughts and actions. So be it.
Maybe one day I'll be free from this definition (don't think so) but until then, I know I'm still struggling to come to terms with my losses. I feel like a bent nail being hammered into solid wood, something constantly hammering me from all sides, forcing me into a deep mass of mess that I can't help but enter.
I used to believe in God with all my heart. We begged him to save the baby's life but I guess his answer was no. The all-powerful, all-loving God stayed silent in our grief. Oh c'mon, you can't blame God. It's nature and science. It may be chromosomal or biological problems that caused the heartbeat to stop. Whatever. Heard that enough from the doctors. But at that time, we were still believing in the God of Lazarus who raised him from the dead. Boy, were we wrong. Twice.
I'm not trying to offend you believers out there but this is my journey of faith-full to faith-less. Not faithlessness yet. Just enough to make me think that believing in fate is less disappointing than believing in a God-who-claims-to-love-you. Oh such shallow faith, the "others" would go. Sometimes I would be "whatever." Sometimes I would just scream, "F**k you! You on the pedestal, high and blessed! Tell me how you feel when you have two loved ones snatched away in your life! The last thing I need now is your pity and preaching." Maybe that's the cause of my seething anger. All that assumptions and comparisons. It all happens in my head. Worse, sometimes in real life too.
Now that I'm calmer, maybe that's the blindside of grief. You never know when or what will hit you. The weight and face of grief changes over time. Sometimes it's heavy and suffocating, sometimes it's all-consuming and fiery, other times it's like a light drizzle on a cool evening. You go with the flow till time numbs the pain and buries the tears.
Who could have known that losing a baby could make you lose a whole community of friends yet gain a few comrades of fellow sufferers who understand your plight? Who would have thought I could "declutter" and unleash myself through the depths of despair?
Like most HuffPost stories, there is always a feel-good ending. I'm not so sure about this one. I've learnt from someone wise, "Some things you never get over. You just have to learn to live with them." I am still learning.