Showing posts from March, 2015

Bob's House

We were driving in the car where we passed a house that was undergoing some major reconstruction. Peter pointed out the window:

"Look Mom, it's Bob the Builder's House!"


My brood of five have been on the rougher side lately. Throwing fries. Spitting on each other. Provoking wrath of younger siblings. This was a recent conversation as we drove in the car...

Me: "Ian, don't make me come back there and hog tie you!"
Ian: "What is that? Can she do that?"
Me: "Yes, I can."
Ian: "How did she learn to do that?"
Samuel: "She learned it in school (pause) or girl scouts"

The long road of grief.

I'm sitting here, typing in bed after getting up multiple times in the night. I've had a tough infection. And as painful as it has been the past couple of days it doesn't exceed the pain in my heart.

I miss Libby. My sister. And it hurts. Hurts so bad. I still dream about her... usually once a week. I still ache for her and miss her laugh and miss her telling me something ridiculous just to get me to laugh. I miss her blue, blue eyes and her dark hair. I miss having my sister.

It's March. And I hate it. And I'm once again reminded that she's gone. I'm continually reminded by that whatever I'm doing, going, being... it's just that March makes it feel real in a way I can't explain. I feel it in my body.... all the way to my bones.

I am sure that sounds weird. It's that my body doesn't physically forget the trauma of what happened 11 years ago.

I have been told my numerous counselors, doctors and psychiatrists that I have PTSD (post-traumat…