Frustrated.

I had one of those strange dreams last night where you are half awake, half asleep, and fully aware of what you are doing and thinking...but when you wake up, there is no evidence or clear thought of what it is that happened. I went to bed around midnight and distinctly remember getting a text from someone I work with at my e/o Saturday job. (This is someone who never texts me, let alone at midnight), so I read it and then went to "sleep," although I'm pretty sure I was still awake. My thoughts were all-consuming and the end result was me realizing that I need to suck it up and get over my "you don't need to be drugged to get through life" mentality and just take my anti-depressants again. Why I thought I could self-medicate and just stop taking them cold turkey last February, I'll never know. Anyways, this is what was on my mind - I started off thinking about the Fall of four years ago and how happy I was at this very time back then. How it was a week before he would kiss me for the first time, a month before the first time we slept together. (I don't know why I torture myself with these thoughts because he and I have never been more done and I have never wanted less to do with him than I do at this very moment). In fact, you would think him telling me last October that "now is not our time, we can't stay together in the long term" because he "felt he needed to be with the mother of his child" while I was sitting there eight months pregnant with his daughter would have been enough for me to tell him to go F himself once and for all. I'm glad I woke up the day that she was born and told him myself that I wanted nothing to do with him. I'm blaming the fact that I put up with that shit on my hormones, but sadly, I'm not sure if that's the case. 

Anyways, that lead me to thinking about this past fall and him taking me into Boston to the agency and I re-lived all of those feelings I had all over again. It was like I was really sitting with my feet across the seat in the backseat of his car, with the leaves by the sidewalk crunching under us...I saw, as clear as day, him getting out and coming around and opening my door for me, helping me out, and walking across the street into the agency with me. I remember how anxious I was, how terrified I was, and how I kept thinking, "this isn't really happening. You aren't really going to give your baby up, you're just going through the motions." It all hit me like a ton of bricks, and I felt worse last night than I even did then. I realized, fully, maybe for the first time, the magnitude of what is gone. I realized that I lost more than just my baby through those agency doors, I lost a toddler, a preschooler, a child, a teen, a woman, maybe a future wife and future mother, too. I've realized that I try to fix things in my head until I get an outcome I can "live" with. I spent so much time doing it with G. If he didn't call me back one night and I secretly assumed it was because he was with someone else or out doing something he didn't want me to know about, I wouldn't be able to fall asleep until I convinced myself that he must have fallen asleep early, or he must have left his phone in the car or something. Had I not convinced myself of that outcome, I would have tossed and turned with anxiety all night. That is so unhealthy. I feel stupid even saying it out loud, I feel like a fool even admitting it to the public (you never know who reads these). Well, it's true, and I did it. Good thing it's over, right? Well, last night I tried to do the same. I tried to convince myself that I already got over the biggest hurdle; I already put my newborn child in another man's arms and walked away from her for an indefinite amount of time...I already trusted another man and woman to raise my daughter and put her above themselves even more than I myself would have been able to...so I got over the tough stuff, right? But that's just one teeny chapter. Yes, walking out of the hospital, and then a week later walking away from them and leaving her with them were probably the two hardest things I will ever have to do in my life (I hope), but it's not like it's a cakewalk from here. When I realized this last night, it felt like my heart literally, physically fell and landed in my ankles. At this very moment, I'm still not sure if I dreamed all of this or if I was awake, but either way, it was in my mind at some point - consciously or subconsciously.

I guess I really do just have to take it one day at a time. Things will always change; she will always change. Humans are ever-changing, so why would I think of my daughter as staying a baby forever? I worry that I will feel it all over again for each milestone in her life. Last fall I 'lost' a baby. When she turns three, will I feel like I'm 'losing' a toddler? Will I feel like I'm 'losing' a kindergartener? I hope not. I'm not entirely sure anything I've even said in this post will even make sense, so I apologize.