Canopy

So I am sitting here listening to the soft sound of breathing and wondering when it was that the sound became foreign to me. This weekend has been an intersection of pain and joy, a little bit of guilt, and a smidge of frustration. In all, it has caused those around me to ask more than once if I was okay. I feel as though I am being watched and perhaps judged. Can't help it...

I put a canopy up around her bed, a soft sea of netting to keep her safe. I made sure she had her buddies, combed her hair, and asked her if she was hungry. A model mommy, by all standards--so why does it feel like a charade? Why do I feel as though that bed is somewhere in another dimension? And how do I fill this empty shell that has become my heart?

No one has the answers for me. There is no handbook, no guide, and no way of knowing which direction you are going, really, until you're there. And only then do we know if we made the right choices. I just have to put my money where my mouth has been, and stop being afraid. The terror of getting off this fence has me paralyzed, stressed, and lacking in patience with things that normally don't even enter my radar. It has affected my confidence and even inspired a painful (of rather beautiful) spot of poetry. It has hurt people I care about. It has hurt me more than I care to admit.

It has inspired me to get some new ink and write my daughter a long letter...LOL
The truth always rises to the surface; it's just processing all of the truths that have come to light in the past few months that has me a little off-balance. I found myself somewhere I didn't expect, looking around me and realizing that I had completely lost my way. I'll state these questions (or their spirit) from my deceased profile's blog:

When did I start think this was my destination? What made me think that?

When did I forget what it cost me to get here? When did I decided that I could grow complacent? This journey had nothing to do with complacency...