Battle Scars

The "battle scars" all over my body do not symbolize the remnants of a car accident or recreational play, they symbolize the tragic day when I lost my son.  Each time I see the scars or the damage from the injury that has come upon me, I remember that day.  Not one moment goes  by that my body does not feel the pain, the loss of muscle, and the agony of neuropathy.  I get so tired of pain and the pretending to the world around me that all is well, physically.  I don't want to complain, I don't want pity and I certainly do not wish to hear "poor Lori."  So what I have learned to do quite successfully is slap a smile on and be someone who looks so normal on the outside that no one will know the real pain I live with on the inside, physically or emotionally.

It's on my worst of days that I try the hardest to hide the pain.  Even to those who love me the most, I hide the hurt from them.  Why I do this is actually a very simple answer.  I know my loved ones have suffered greatly with the loss of Matthew and they have seen me suffer through so much medically, that I do not want them to see me hurt when they don't have to.  If I can control what emotions and pain that I am experiencing when in their presence, I do.  I know that if they see me hurting, it will cause them to experience pain.  So unless I am in the hospital bed or down where it cannot be camouflaged, I do my very best to remain strong and smile... through it all.

This, however, I do not recommend for anyone going through an emotional or painful experience.  Those who love you want nothing more than to be there for you.  I've learned that.  It took me some years and I still try to fake a "yes ma'am. I am fine."  But it doesn't fly anymore.  It is as if a burden has been lifted where I can admit that I am just having a really bad day.  Instead of feeling like I am a burden to those who love me, I must allow them to support me on those bad days.  I need that.  I've needed that all along, but by thinking I was protecting them from pain, I was actually inflicting more pain upon myself and them.

My disappointment with life caused me to almost lose myself in grief and anger and pain.  It's like I lost myself the day I lost my son.  I lost my life as I knew it, I lost my health, I lost my career and my dignity.  I was a shell, a very empty broken shell.  I didn't know who I was.  I remember vividly staring at myself in the mirror not recognizing myself, wondering where did I go?   What happened to me?  I remember saying over and over, but I just went in to have a baby....

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