When I first met the love of my life, I was just about six months pregnant. I didn’t think anything of it at first, the father of my son had just let and I had convinced myself I was going to be alone for a long time. I thought that no one would love me while pregnant with some mans child. I was also still holding out and hoping the father of my child would come around. The last thing I would have expected is another man wanting me or even falling in love with me.

We have this rare connection, it’s incredible. I knew from the start there was something about him. I was drawn to him. I couldn’t get enough of him at first. He was sweet, he drove me to my appointments, would go get me food from anywhere if I was hungry and run out the get me tums in the middle of the night. He gave me back rubs and brushed my hair. He took care of me and was supportive in every way he could be and once Arlo was big enough he would even play with him. Watching it made me fall so hard and fast for him. He’s funny, he can always make me laugh, we shared our strange sense of humor. We had a lot in common. Good taste in music, movies and video games. I loved him and I loved the way he loved me. He has his own son, he is nine and watching the way he was with him made my heart melt. He’s such an amazing father and he tries so hard to do everything he can for his son. I understood that. I was trying to do the same thing.

He has a rough past, like any of us. We all have our baggage, some heavy than others. He had a troubled family life as a child and  his teen years weren’t much better and neither was his young adult years. Which made him kind of a angry person in a way. He is very quick to temper. Sometimes it’s like talking to a brick wall when he’s mad, nothing you say or do would calm him down once he is at a certain point. It got bad at times but I knew his heart was always in the right place, his anger just clouded his judgment. I don’t know any couple that didn’t fight. I knew where he was coming from and I knew why he was the way he was. I understood him, because we were a lot alike in those types of way. So I forgave him when he first broke up with me and I forgave him again when he did it for the second time because I loved him, all the good things he did always trumped the bad.

Unfortunately, since Arlo passed, I don’t feel like the same person probably because I’m not. Losing the one thing I love the most killed apart of me. I don’t know if it’s permanent or not but it really does affect me. There are days when it really feels like I’m going crazy or losing my mind. My moods are everywhere. There’s no telling weather I’ll wake up in a good mood or bad anymore. The constant nightmares makes me not want to sleep at night and then the lack of sleep makes me more emotional. When I get depressed, I distant myself from people, it’s what I’ve always done. I just want to be left alone.When I do that, I start thinking that maybe I shouldn’t be in relationship. I’m not emotionally stable enough to try and carry on a healthy relationship. I feel like I shouldn’t be dragging people around in the shithole of a life I have going on.  Everything in my head is just such a mess. I’m trying my hardest to be happy or to live with the quilt but it’s just too much at times. See, crazy.

Why couldn’t things just go the way they were planned? Things would still be hard but not compared to this bullshit. I’m tired of my heart always hurting and not knowing what to do.  I just really hope there’s light at the end of this very long tunnel. I’m hoping there’s a reason for all the suffering. I would give anything to be saved from this overwhelming confusion.

My demons though quiet, are never quite silenced.  Calm as they may be, they wait patiently for a reason to wake, take an overdue breath, and crawl back into my ear.”