I sat writing today hardly aware of the time and what day it was. My mind I noticed had been slipping lately. Important crucial duties that were required of me I fumbled through. Tears seem to flow more freely even though I deny there existence. Stopping for a brief moment a small voice somewhere from with in me seemed to make logical sense.
As I watched the decline of my Cody's Strength I to was losing parts of me. While this disease was taking from Cody I too struggled to hang on to the me I knew I had to be. Diligently I watch Cody fight to maintain any strength from his dying muscles. Silently alone reliving the pain my parents must have felt with losing my brothers to this same horrific disease. It made sense that since my decision to attempt writing a book only opened more unhealed wounds and increased my awareness of the pain I felt and the pain to come. I thought about the many places I turned to in attempts to free myself of moments, where I would not feel the sorrow and loss that controlled every part of my being. Trying to find somewhere to help me forget for mere seconds how weak this disease left me feeling. The failed attempts to hide the guilt that grew inside of me for feeling a need to take time off. The failed me I am appearing to be to those around me for falling victim to a weakened moment. The tormenting haunting I felt for things I would never have.
While I continue this journey with my sons I know many more emotions will grasp at me. I can only hope despair leaves some of me left to survive my biggest battle to come.
I am thankful for the few brave souls who before me shared their heart felt stories. Grateful to those who had the courage to express pain and allow strangers to read intimate details of their sorrow. Those who lived through shame for their less desired actions and faced scrutiny to reach a healing point know that forgiving ourselves is often the hardest part of healing. It is through my failed attempts to master coping that I have learnt the most.