I thought I was doing ok, I was wrong.

Sometimes I wish I didn't believe. Life would be a lot simpler, I could accept things as happening for no reason. It was just one of those things, but I don't believe in things just happening. There is a plan, there is always a reason. God could fix all things if he wanted to. Why doesn't he want to? He gave us free will yes, but so many things don't come out of choices we make. Maybe I need to be reminded why I believe. Where has it gotten me? I see people with peace in the midst of struggle and I want that. Yet I struggle against it.

I'm at home, where should I be? Church, I'm a Christian, I believe in God, I should be worshiping. The truth? I don't want to. I don't feel like it. I'm beginning to think I'm not a very good person after all. Rod asked me why I didn't want to go, I told him I didn't feel like being fake today. I don't feel like worshipping so why go to the place of worship? I don't feel like pretending I'm ok today, so I'll stay in bed.

Yes, I lost a baby, I feel hurt, I feel pain, I feel loss, I feel grief, I feel sadness, I feel loneliness, I feel anger, I feel betrayal, I feel fear, I feel helpless, it feels hopeless. I can't truthfully blame all of my crap on the loss though. I was struggling before I was pregnant, the loss just gives me a reason to feel and amplifies all the emotion that was already present. It justifies my wanting to stay in bed. It gives a face to my struggle.

I look around, I talk to people, I read blogs. People are struggling, with many different things, yet they are stronger than me. I am weak. I put on a good show but inwardly I am a coward. I lash out, I blame, I yell, I scream, I lose myself in lack of faith. Why can't I allow myself to hang on? I curl up and hide, I just can't deal. What if everything that happens to me is my fault? Because God is the only one who truly can see in my head and I don't think he likes what he sees. What if he took my baby to lighten the load on me? He didn't think I could handle it. What if he was just being merciful. What if my baby didn't make it because I didn't pray enough? If I had been more faithful would he have given me the miracle I so desperately wanted?

Why can't I be one of those shiny happy people who just seem to get it? They don't waver in their faith. They struggle with dignity. Maybe it's reflective of who they are on the inside, maybe I'm rotting from the inside out. I worry I can't be a good enough wife to my husband, a good enough mother to my daughter, a good enough friend to the people I care about. Lately it's been all about me. Is this what life's about? Because it stinks.


I'm a mess. End of story. Please don't try to fix me, I just needed to get out some of the conflict going on in my head.