Jammed Up

Day 969.

I have written so little.

Things have not been easy.

My emotions are jammed inside me. My stomach is churning.

I have lost my way with my journal. My mind drifted to my useless, mindless iPad games.

And let’s face it - I have too little time in solitude, with construction in the house, because it is only when I am alone, that I can meet myself where I truly am, and it is in that meeting of myself that I find my thoughts and emotions.

And - it’s been raining a lot and unseasonably cold at night - and wet. So sitting out here, fag in hand, is not as natural.

We are creating a beautiful bathroom for the boys.

“So NOW you’re doing up our bathroom!” I hear Luke say.

“Doing it for the favorite son!”

I can see him roll his eyes and smile, but I can also see him pissed off.

George has been in a dark place for the past few months.

He’s staying true to his needs, he was lonely, but he stayed true to himself. The result of which was a lot of nights here with his Mum.

I would have loved it, well I did, but that was tainted by his sadness.

The greatest (US) Mother’s Day gift of all was that I sat here all alone that evening because he had something better to do.

He had met a lovely girl, strong and lively, beautiful and open.

And so I am glad for him, but moreover, glad that I did not turn into the cloying mother of a single living child, hanging onto him at the peril of his happiness.

I am still the mother I wanted to be.

The other occupation that has kept me from my contemplation, is the fight against a California Bill, that I find so egregious, because once again it puts pharma profit over safety of the people, and puts people that I know in harms way, should it pass.

The pharmaceutical industry propaganda, the same propaganda that told us opioids were not addictive, and pushed stigma onto those that fell as “low-lifes”, and those who opposed it as hysterical Mothers who raised their children badly, is still at play.

Money before human lives.

As with the opioid push, the politicians are bored and unable to digest the science, and doctors are disbarred for speaking out. The press convinced, and unable to write any counter articles because of advertising revenue.

And because the masses want it to be true, that a pain-free, disease-free world can exist without consequence, they welcome the lie with open arms, and buy the lie, casting common sense aside.

Testimony to the contrary is ignored and stigmatized.

So I’ve spent my days working tirelessly.

Those pharma bastards took one of my children, they can’t have the other.

Driven by wanting to protect any other mother from suffering as I do.

The silent crying has set in.

I am jammed.

The crying seems futile.

So I cry on the inside.

It jams me, a lump so intolerable fills my torso till there’s no way to release it - the crying is stuck inside me as I’m unable to fulfill the sobbing action that would offer me release.

Luke’s birthday approaches, and I recall the final days of my pregnancy.

Vast in belly.

Vast in expectation.

Already so in love with my baby.

So much hope for the life ahead, a life with this human I had yet to meet, and yet I already knew him, loved him, so absolutely, on a cellular level.

But still, I cannot find my tears.