Every day this week I’ve told myself that I wanted to write a blog. Just so I could do something that can serve as a brain dump to my electronic therapist on how the past two weeks have been going. Since leaving my intensive therapy program, I’ve had a mental breakdown every day, which resulted in me getting drunk and going on Instagram to tell the world that I was tired and a bunch of other things I don’t quite remember. Rolling into Monday of this week, my son is admitted to the hospital for sicknesses we don’t quite understand yet. I just know that my son might be the next living bubble boy at this point.
Last week I said I was tired of being strong, but being strong is all I can be right now. I need to be strong, not even just for me, but for my baby, for my husband… Another task to test my mental fortitude. Something to come my way and see if this is what breaks me this time. Honestly, if any of the worst case scenarios in my head happened, it would break me. I wouldn’t even know what to do. I won’t write them into existence, just know that it’s where my head is at right now.
I look at my baby, who was once thriving, joking, laughing, and crawling around my home… laying in a bed with fluids and antibiotics and no energy to play with blocks or read books… and he naps more than half the day away… It hurts me to see him like this.
So yeah… I’m tired… but if I have to throw on a smile in front of my baby boy and pretend like I have the energy, then that’s what I’ll do… Because if he sees me in good spirits, maybe he’ll be in good spirits too…