Bubble bubble… My bubble

tcf-good-grief-bubble-butterfly

Bubble bubble… My bubble

My bubble is my safe place.

My bubble is my happy place.

In my bubble I can breathe.

In my bubble I am okay, in fact, in my bubble I am as close to content as I can possible be.

But life does not happen inside my bubble…

Life is out there, out there where I do not feel safe, where I struggle to find my happiness. Out there where I sometimes struggle to breathe and out there where contentment is but a dream.

I struggle most days to leave my bubble and face life… Life has so many ‘sharp’ objects that threaten to puncture my bubble.

In my bubble I don’t have to find out you are planning your third baby (and my first thought was geez, give me a break, you have two and they came so easy)

In my bubble I don’t have to see baby clothes and wonder what my daughter would have looked liked in that cute pink tutu.

In my bubble I don’t have to wish I was as tired as you are because I have to get up at night for my baby.

In my bubble I don’t have to remember the pain and sorrow that losing your child brings, a sorrow that always looms near the surface of a forced smile.

So what do you do? Stay and hind in your bubble, or slowly crawl out and face life’s sharp objects one at a time?

I want to be happy again, truly happy, well as truly happy as I can be in my new reality.

I want to breathe again, I want to look at baby clothes again, and I want to congratulate you on another baby…

I want to find my new version of being content, outside of my bubble…

Each day has become a conscious decision to get out of my bubble and find colour in my world – to define THE NEW ME

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