Identity Crisis

the fog is lifting.
I have been in a funk- for a very, very long time.
I have no idea when it started.
I feel better everyday.

So what does that mean about me? If I let the sunshine in to my soul, where does that take me? It could turn me inside out and I don't know if I am ready for that. I have this space, this private place, that is hurt and hidden away. It's a part of me- it's who I am at the core. So how do I move on from who I am?
I am a victim, people. So what does it mean about me if start feeling better and don't feel victimized anymore? It's like starting over and that's scary. Would I be one of those "happy people" that are one step from the "happy place", AKA the insane asylum? I am processing, processing. I am hovering outside of myself, wondering what it means to be free. If I am truly moving on then I don't need to talk about the baggage anymore. I don't have to remind anyone of how hard my life has been and how mistreated and misunderstood I feel. I won't need the feelings of satisfaction and gratification I get when I see the sympathy in my listener's eyes- I won't need them to think I am pathetic and sad.

So here I am, feeling better than I have felt in a really, really long time and I don't know what that means. My bubble has burst and I am standing at a bus stop in my underwear. Which clothes will I choose to put on? And what bus am I going to take- and to where?

I do understand that tomorrow I might wake up and feel the weight again. But right now I am in nesting-mode, hoping to park myself and make myself comfortable for a while. And yet there is an uneasiness, a waiting for the bomb to go off again.

Who am I and where am I going?

If I am free, why am I so confused? Why do I feel so naked and vulnerable?

I started this post 2 days ago and didn't quite feel I had drawn any conclusions. So I have been sitting on it
.
Well, the bottom did drop out again, the bomb went off.
The call came through and Baby Jack has had a second diagnosis- the confirmation that he is indeed ill and suffering from JRA. I was waiting, hopeful, that this had all been a misunderstanding- that our doctor had been presumptuous and hasty. But he was right. Am I saying this finally? He was right.

I am in denial. I don't want a sick baby. I don't deserve this. Jack doesn't deserve this. He is innocent.

I called my girlfriend this morning to share the news and her question was, "how is your heart?" My, what an insightful (and rarely asked) question. She knows. She knows because she has a baby that suffers. Even over the phone I knew she was holding on to me. I am in fetal position today and she wrapped herself around me, protecting me from the elements and flying debris- sheilding me for a moment from life and letting me just rest in this new realization. She helped my world stand still for 5 minutes and allowed me to lose it. Thanks, M.
So how am I? How is my heart? It feels broken. Today, it's in pieces.

I have to be honest, it's really, really hard for me to give the meds to Baby Jack. I have a dread and resistance. It's a feeling I can't explain or control. I am reluctant to pump his body full of synthetic chemicals. It goes against my conscience. And now we will add on two additional drugs- injections. I am going to have to get over myself. Six medications. We have been on a four drug regiment for months now and with little results.
I dread this.