The New Me...

Sometimes I will start to write a new post.

About nothing in particular.

Sometimes about my feelings. Sometimes a new recipe. Sometimes just a ramble, like I am now.

And then I will stop, hit the back space button for a minute, and stare at the blank screen.

I am running out of words.

I have writer's block: but it's carrying over into every aspect of my life. I can't think straight sometimes. Everything comes out jumbled and backwards.

I just hit the back space button again...

I don't know what to say anymore.

I don't know how to talk about these feelings I have been holding in anymore.

I have been trying desperately to get back to my old self.

But I think that's the problem.

I can never be my old self again. I can never be the person that I was before Leila passed away.

I have to figure out this new person that I am supposed to be. And it's difficult. Extremely difficult.

Here is what I think I know about the person I was before January 28, 2011:
I was loud, obnoxiously outgoing, able to hold a conversation with anyone over anything. I enjoyed a good debate but also loved to listen to the things other people had to say. I was passionate about being a housewife: cooking, cleaning, sewing, taking care of Landon, everything that I did - I did with a smile and ultimate dedication. I was a people person. I never felt nervous or uncomfortable in public situations. I loved to be the center of attention. I smiled a lot. I mean A LOT. I laughed at jokes that weren't funny. I could make friends with a complete stranger in a matter of seconds. I loved every minute of being pregnant, spending time with my family and friends, and being alive.

Here is what I am finding out about the person I am now:
Though I am still pretty loud, I am awkward: I laugh too loud at all the wrong times. I find myself getting nervous in social situations. I was shocked to find that the new me sometimes becomes shy around new people. I have become lazier about doing the things that used to be easy for me to do, like housework. I cry a lot. I get this funny knot in my throat when I see a baby, a pregnant woman, or hear someone talk about anything related to babies. I have this annoying tendency to apologize for absolutely everything, regardless of if I had control over it or not. I don't know how to talk to people. I don't know what to do with my hands when I am talking. I enjoy being quiet a lot more than I used to. I adore watching my son play for hours on end. Though it makes me cry, I love talking about my daughter. And I love hearing from other people how she touched their lives. I am terrified of being pregnant, but I want to be so terribly it makes my heart ache. I second guess myself a lot: about everything. It is as though I am scared that any decision I make will lead to a consequence that I can't yet see, but that will be devastating.

I learn new things about my new self every day. Some of them are good, I guess. But some of them I don't like.

I don't like feeling like I don't belong in my own skin. I don't like feeling left out because people don't like the person that I am now.

And I hate,

More than anything,

Looking at old pictures of myself and knowing that I may never be that happy again.

But day by day I try to get to know myself a little more.

I have discovered that I am very good at making things: jewelry, clothes, odds and ends. I have been making things non-stop for the past couple of months. It has become my therapy. I like that about my new self. I like that I can take a few plain beads, some chain, and some ribbon and make a fabulous necklace. Or that I can cut up an old pair of pants and make a tie for my son to wear. I really like that.

So it's a start I guess.