Oliver(my nephew) is one of, if not the reasons that I have actually started caring if I will be around for things or not. My sister told me two days before my birthday that she was pregnant. The change was immediate. One second, I was huddled in the fetal position in my bed when she walked in. The second after she told me the news, I was alive and excited. Talking about things relating to kids, (toys and books to buy, due dates, cravings) like I wasn’t usually in pain talking about these things.
This six month old life, (in the 100th percentile for height) gets me out of bed in 530 in the morning just to see his happy face when he sees me when he wakes up. Every time I hold him, I contemplate that I had no idea how much I could love someone. I miss him hours after he’s gone from me.
He’s not mine, and in my darkest hours I lament that he isn’t, but he’s my nephew and godson, and that could possibly save me, it has so far.
Because even though it makes me seem even less interesting, I don’t think, at least for the present, that I’m going to end this. Life. I want to be around for crawling and standing and running around and swimming and play dates.
My goal is to get my new dog before July. That’s when the heartbreak in Missouri happened, and when the suicidal thoughts reach a level where I can’t handle it anymore. I’m off of the regular schedule of my medicine so remembering him and stumbling across pictures on my phone is enough for me to barely suppress the need to walk into my parent’s dark bed room, and sobbing, wake them up to try to comfort me.
I don’t know if I’ll ever love him as much as I love/ loved him. I try not to think about it. I always love harder than everyone else. Which sucks. But for now, I’m okay. I’m depressed, I need the pain to end, I need to smoke.
But I have things to stay around for. So I’m going to stay.