I Just Want a Normal Life

Missing this person, with high hopes of finding her again.

I hopped on the Peloton today for the first time in like 9 months, and while I am now 35 weeks pregnant so it was nearly impossible but I did it. I have spent the last month searching for clothes that fit me, continuing hard healing work in therapy, and still trying to figure out my life. So maybe that little stroll was the jumpstart I needed.

I haven't made a blog post in a while. Truly, I have been trying to figure out what to even write about or what to even say because my brain hasn't functioned like a "normal" brain in quite awhile and truthfully I just want a normal life. Whatever that may be.

I started this blog as a place to share our families story-Tacoma's story. I was searching so hard for meaning and purpose and truly trying to cling onto something that would continuously remind me and honestly, other people of him. I never wanted him to be forgotten- I still don't. I feel like the second we don't say his name, or take a picture with his bear, or I don't post on this blog or on his Instagram that he will be forgotten.

However, the reality is... that has created a lot of internal struggle for me and it's simply not true. Tacoma is a part of our life forever. He is our family. He is our first son. He is the first born grandson on my side of the family and he will forever hold the number 8 spot on Cortney's.

I don't need a blog or an Instagram dedicated to him to help others remember him. I don't need a blog or an Instagram dedicated to him to show people how loved and wanted he was in our family. I don't need a blog or an Instagram to validate that I wanted our son to be living anymore than I wanted our daughters. I don't need a blog or an Instagram to remember him or be any more of a mother to him than I am to Tulsa and soon Topper.

I do, however, want and crave a normal life. Whatever the hell that may be.

I honestly have this terrible core memory of my therapist telling me that I will always be a bereaved parent and while that is true... I hate it, to my core. I don't want to be a bereaved parent, but I am and that is a shit thing to think about. Honestly though this blog and Tacoma's Instagram has made that front and center of my life and while I am so proud of sharing his story and our story, I also realize that it hasn't really been helpful to my healing journey.

I have experienced trauma before- in many ways, in fact. Never in any of those times have I ever let it consume me or wreck me. This trauma though, I did. It took full control of my life. I became a victim, I struggled HARD CORE with coping. I lost myself. I was MISERABLE inside and I did everything I could to try and make everyone around me feel the same. I searched and searched in so many ways to try and find ways to make sense of why Tacoma had to die, and why our family had to experience this, and I have continued to try and make sense of it. The reality is though, it will never make sense. I will never understand and there will never be a concrete answer. We didn't deserve this but no matter what we do to run from it, or victimize ourselves, it will never change. No matter how many Instagram post I make or blog post I write, Tacoma will stay dead and we will still not deserve this shit card that we were given.

All of that being said to circle back to the statement... I want a normal life and I also want my inner child to go back to sleep, because girl, you are safe.

I don't even know if I lived a normal life before Tacoma died but I do know that it wasn't like the life I have right now. It was boring. It was calm. It was laughter and love and peace. I was confident, determined, silly, loving, and kind. I was go with the flow, and way less judgey. I was just Sam, and the reality is I miss her. A whole damn lot. I miss the Sam that just let life happen, without searching for control. The Sam that just laughed and loved and never took life too seriously. The Sam that was resilient and knew that the inner child that she protected was safe and going to be okay.

I created this blog as a space to share about Tacoma and his story and his life, but I think that more than ever I just want this blog to help me figure out how to get back to a normal life. To find the person I was before, and love her more than ever. To remind the child that was wrecked at a young age, that she is loved, safe and has no business coming back up and acting out because I am now an almost 30 year old who is doing her damn best.

Tacoma dying isn't the only thing that has changed me, though. Pregnancy in general has rocked my world. No one talks about what pregnancy actually does to you. The hormones, the anxiety, the guilt, the giving up your body to grow another. It's beautiful, sure. It's worth it, absolutely. It is also HARD AS FUCK. Mentally and physically. For the last two years I have been pregnant and shared my body with another human. For the last two years my hormones have truthfully wrecked my mental health. For the last two years I have overcompensated fears of mine by trying so hard to be perfect, that I have been a crazy person. No excuse by any means but the reality is this isn't talked about enough. When I look at the finish line of this pregnancy sure I am excited for clothes that will fit, the beautiful baby that will be added to our family but I am BEYOND ready to regulate my body. I am allowed to have fears, I am not allowed to be an asshole to create control over trying not to let those fears become a reality.

I want a normal life, whatever that might be and I am beyond ready to put my all into figuring that out.

XOXO,

Sammy