No, I am not okay. Thank you for asking.
I feel like a shittier, more volatile version of myself. Who I was is dead – I will never be that person again. As much as I might hope and pray that I could go back to who I was before, I’ve been replaced by an angry, unpredictable, pathetic manifestation of myself.
I have never had anger issues before. Now they are all I can think about most of the time. Things get under my skin, and I start quietly seething. I don’t know how to make them go away, but while they persist, all I want to do is yell and punch people and break things. I get so mad.
Of course, I get sad, too. Those episodes are even worse, because I can usually see the rage coming… the sorrow, not so much. I will go from fine to bawling inconsolably in a matter of minutes.
I am so sick of being asked if I am okay. No, I’m not. None of this is okay, none of it will ever be okay, and every time you ask me if I’m okay, it reminds me that I very well might not be. It reminds me that I have suffered a devastating loss, and that I was robbed of my son. Even if I am holding my own, it might only be seconds before, for reasons even I can’t fathom, I fall apart at the seams again.
Because that is just part of me now… sometimes, I just have meltdowns, because I’m broken now.
I will never be 100% okay again.