We are very good at pretending that nothing is wrong.
I think it's probably one of my worst traits. It's gotten me in plenty of trouble before.
I haven't really said anything beyond "We're waiting for his next Dr appt. It's a little nerve-wracking" to anyone. I've been saving all my freak outs for here. Won't that make for some fun blogging?
I guess I just don't know how to open up when we're sinking. Too many times being ignored by our families perhaps? Also, I don't want to be that blubbery girl in the corner talking to no one because everyone is afraid I might blow snot on them.
When we first found out he was sick, we actually lost some friends. Fear of the unknown I suppose. Or maybe just not knowing what to say.
Well, I don't know what to say either.
So I just don't say anything.
I do know that I can spend another section of my life crying on the bathroom floor with the water running. I think one year was enough of that.
We don't seem any different. I think. But it's there. That uncertainty.
I have so many questions for his Dr and I know I need to write them down, but I don't. Not yet. It makes it a little more real. I guess I'm weak because I need my fantasy of everything being ok and I'm doing whatever to prolong that.
Last night I dreampt that a volcano erupted right by our house. I was on my way home with the kids and I could see the lava pouring out. Mr X was home and all I could think was 'at least now I know'.
I woke up crying.