i cannot frickin' sleep. AGAIN.
i should say that i did stay up until approximately 2am reading. i knew i shouldn't, but i couldn't put the book down. and i genuinely thought that i had tired myself out this time. that i wouldn't have any trouble.
problem is, the revelation near the end of the book (Remember Me?
- not at all my usual fare, but I read it in one sitting, in case you were interested) triggered off a thought process in me (entirely unrelated to babyloss, for once). it made me realise that the fact i completely screwed up university and ended up dropping out is not entirely unrelated to something that happened at the very beginning of my university career.
but i kind of knew that already. but this time my brain went a bit further.
the problem wasn't what happened. the problem was not realising that there was a problem.
sometimes i think putting an 18 year old in charge of the rest of your life is a crazy, crazy plan. who on earth is responsible enough to make those kind of decisions?
but what else can we do?
i'm sorry to be so cryptic. but it feels like i've just found the missing link. it feels like i've just made sense of a part of my universe.
it feels like i could finally explain to my parents why i went so badly off the rails.
and this (and now i'm talking about babyloss again) will always affect everything.
at first, i didn't realise that. i thought i would just grieve for a little while (two, maybe three weeks? that sounds about right. i'll be back to work soon enough. everything will be ok. honestly, i'm fine. really. god, i was so naive) and then i would be back to normal.
i nodded sagely when people said that things would never be the same again. that i would never be the same again. but inside i recoiled in horror. this can't destroy my life like that! i've lost a baby. it's not the end of the world. i can go back to being myself in a week or three.
i think the magnitude of my loss is really only starting to sink in now.
i won't be defined by this forever. but my lost baby will always be a part of me. will always be somewhere in my peripheral vision. perpetually just out of sight, but still there.
and that is horrific.
but extremely comforting.
and i'd rather that, than the alternative.
i don't want to forget.
the sophie kinsella book is chick lit.
i don't usually read much chick lit.
but i have read articles about how if men wrote about the issues dealt with in chick lit, they would be hailed as literary genii.
(it wasn't that simple, but it's late and i'm tired, and i can't think of enough of it to google)
and this books deals with memory and sense of self and loyalty and all kinds of lofty themes.
and i think that maybe those people have a point.
there is fluff on the top, but underneath is a solid book that has levels and everything.
and it caused me to have a revelation. that doesn't happen very often.
i miss being able to tag blog posts nice, simple things. like 'cake' or 'weather'. or 'fluffy kittehs'.