It's hard not to feel sorry for oneself.  

It's hard not to look back in history, with history stopping on the day life changed forever.  

It's hard to remember much before she died.  It's as if my life has been only 4 years and 10 months long.  

I've accepted the new life everyone spoke of.  I've gotten past the all encompassing sadness.  I've grown in my loss and grief and have started really turning it into something good.  Despite this, that date is still my life timeline.  When I consider my life, it is always just to that day-as if the 35 years prior to February 23 never existed.  

I sit here this morning once again tired.  It seems as if everyday something goes wrong.  I sit here this morning once again yelling at the world "what more can you do to me".  I sit here this morning once again feeling sorry for myself, throwing myself a little pity party.  The mind is a funny thing.  I thought I was asleep yet, it was this conversation with the world that had me awake and wide eyed before the sun considered making an appearance.  Did I even sleep?  Or, did the world and I fight all night long.  When I throw my pity parties they typically begin with "dead baby, was that not enough".  I could go back further and pull up life's injustices from my teen years, my early 20's, mid 20's, early 30's but I don't.  My injustices, my "are you kidding me's" always start with that fateful day in February 2010.  

Someone stole my son's phone.  Again.  

That's the trigger for this morning's pity party.  I was told last night.  I was blunt, and very matter of fact last night during the conversation; stolen phone, not getting a new one, end of story.  Apparently the thought festered in my sub-conscience until it awoke me, this back and forth conversation between myself and the world.  

HIs phone was stolen.  We have a leaky transmission.  There's a big chunk of vehicle that has fallen off my vehicle.  My windshield is cracked.  The AC/heater needs to be replaced.  The cabinets keep falling off.  The washing machine is on its last leg.  We need to bring in an electrician to fix the 3 outlets inside the house that just quit working one day, oh and all the outlets outside that just quit working one day.  I'm considering all this crap, I'm considering the dive of a town we live in, I'm considering the lack of opportunity for my kids, I'm considering the fact that my husband hasn't cracked open a book for a major test; I could go on a ten page rant about that.  There is always something.  I've stated it so many times-I just wish this black cloud that has been lingering over me would just go away.  I mean really, when will I catch a break.  

Fist in the air-it's not fair.  Fist in the air-world, you will not defeat me.  Fist in the air-one day it'll turn around for me.  Fist in the air-screw you world.  Fist in the air-life sucks.

Life does suck.  Right now for someone.  Someone in this world was just told their baby has died.  Thousands of someones in this world were just told their baby has died.  Thousands of someones laid in a bed with their sick child as they took their last breath last night.  Thousands of someones were just told their child has cancer.  Thousands of someones were just told they would never be able to have a child of their own.  Thousands of someones are searching for their lost or missing child.  Thousands of someones are waking up to tragedy.  

It's so easy to get wrapped up in all the wrong.  It's so easy to grab hold of the negative and cling to it.  Desperately, I seek out the good, I search for all the positive in my life.  Everyday I struggle with this back and forth the world and I have.  A constant, you won't defeat me, I am stronger than this, try as you might I will get back up with every blow.  I just grow so tired of that constant conversation.  I grow tired of having to tell myself every day, that this too shall pass.  I grow tired of telling myself that God has a plan and all this is just making me stronger.  I grow tired of telling myself that this little thing happened in order to prevent a bigger thing from happening.  I grow tired of hearing about this blessing and that blessing and the God is great's from everyone around me.  You know what God is great.  He truly, truly is.  But my windshield is still broken, my transmission still needs to be fixed, I'm still staying warm by a tiny little space heater in the corner of my house.

It's my pity party. 

I don't have to get over it.

I don't have to find joy in life.

Finding joy leads to loosing it. 

Loosing joy sucks.

If one keeps themselves engulfed in the negative there is no risk…

Joy can't be lost if it doesn't exist.  

Joy. Happiness.  Peace.  Faith.  Believing.  Trusting.  Knowing.  Hope.  Love.  It all crumbles down around us at some time.  At some point it becomes easier to not get back up, to not risk another fall.  To spend life lingering in this pity becomes more bearable then to rise up only to fall once again.

4 years and 10 months ago I learned what it truly means "life sucks"… Today, it has a different meaning for different reasons.  

Yes, things happen.  Yes, sometimes it seems like a never ending stream of negativity.  Yes, it is easier to live in that place to get caught up in and entrapped by the negative.  Yes, the pain is less the frustration is less when things happen and one is already frozen at the bottom, in that pool of pity.  But…

Joy is out there.  Love is out there.  Happiness is out there.  It might seem as if you have to fight for it, fight so hard to hold onto it.  Clinging almost desperately to it if only for a second as I wait for the next blow seems to be my current life story.  It is my hope that each time I find it, I'm able to hold onto it a little bit longer and a little bit longer and a little bit longer.  Maybe just maybe if I'm able to do that it will become increasingly difficult for the world to knock me down.