Pathetic, I know. But sometimes when I read other people's blogs and see how their words are all nice and flow just right... it makes me a little green with envy. My words are usually all jumbled over themselves and the same thing gets repeated and sentences don't flow right. I'm not a good writer. I know I could be better if I actually took the time to but it doesn't really come naturally for me. In reality, I shouldn't let this bug me. My blog is not for the purpose of bringing other people joy at reading it, it is for me to vent and get my feelings out. This is my place to write what I'm really feeling. To a degree. I can't write everything here since it is public and anyone can read it. I save my true inner feelings for my personal diary. I call this diary my Baby Book. It's actually the second one I've had. I started the first one back in early 2010. I decided to write about my journey to a baby so I started before I was even pregnant. And once we lost Casey and Jaimie, that book became a safe place for me to let everything out. I carry it in my purse so wherever I am, if I have the desire to write, I can. I finished that book up last February and had to start a new one. The new one is the most depressing though because there are no happy "I'm pregnant" entries. It's just full of this past year of craziness. The only person who gets to read my "baby books" is myself and Dan. No one else needs to see the true extent of my craziness. Those books is where my true self comes out, no matter how ugly.
I wonder how other people deal with their pain. Do they have blogs, secret diaries, close friends to talk to, a therapist? I've always been one to write out my feelings and I realize that it's not always the best way. I've never been good at serious talks. I prefer to write. But talking is also a necessary part of healing. And I believe it's a part of my healing process that I need to tackle next. I need to talk through my feelings more. I need to learn to express everything that I have bottled up inside whether it's to Dan, Vicky, or a therapist. But mostly to Dan.