Stop Crying Your Heart Out

It’s been a while…

…to the point where I discovered that Facebook ‘yells’ at you if you’ve not published anything for longer than it deems appropriate – “Your paltry number of Facebook Followers haven’t heard from you in EIGHT days! Write them something! Have you disappeared? Buck your ideas up!

I stopped writing so that I could write Other Things, namely the couple of remaining #KickCancersAss things I have to do (no – they aren’t done yet *sigh*). Then I stopped (apart from my Ten Things of Thankful post) because I had run out of things to say. And this weekend I was stopped by a total lack of internet after our provider decided to give us one last catastrophe as we left them for someone better, and cause sufficient problem at an exchange that we were without any kind of connectivity for several days.

Now I’m back to writing cos I need it.

Stop Crying Your Heart OutBuckle up, batten down, or just plain leave. This is going to be long. And rambly. And I make no promise of any *twinklysparklygoodness*, because I just haven’t been feeling it. Much. We’ll see.

Still here?

Come on then – let’s get ‘er done.

I’ll begin by saying that whatever else, this Christmas season is already a million, million times better than last year. Sure, I may have had moments of falling apart and shutting myself away and of weeping bitter tears of frustration and broken dreams, but I’ve reached out. I’ve let people in. I’ve been comfort-able (*just*). I haven’t shattered into tiny pieces and stayed broken. I haven’t been stuck in unbroken blackness. I haven’t had to leave.

And this writing – this getting it out into words and processing it as the thoughts pour from my head, through my fingertips and into the page – is the final piece of the puzzle (I hope), which will let me move past it and begin to let go. A bit. Not entirely.

[Disclaimer: I owe you no Truths. I *will* be highly self-edited. This is only one side of all the stories. Just sayin’.]

Yes, though – a lot of it is to do with the season. Some of it is to do with the person living the season. Some of it just *is*.

Years ago, Husby and I decided that our first three Christmases together would be spent visiting with each set of our parents in their homes. Our fourth (we planned, naively) would be spent at home, as a FAMILY, having had, or being in the process of having, a baby. Because we both always wanted a family. A large one at that. We even had names picked out for two boys and two girls.

I’m doing my best to forget them now.

Our first Christmas at home, on our own (last year), I couldn’t bear to be in the flat. We didn’t decorate. We had no tree. I hated opening presents and I cried nearly every day. We went out for the day to help serve dinner to the homeless, and I ate nothing, because as much of a distraction as it was, I couldn’t bear allowing anything ‘Christmassy’ past my lips. We found a way to return home after midnight, and my one, desperate desire was fulfilled – I hadn’t spent Christmas day at home, mourning the loss of our only two chances at parenthood, and the barren wasteland which stretched ahead of us.

This year we have a string of lights, some dangly, jingly, glittery things, and a tree (which is mostly decorated okay, but there’s a box of decorations missing and we can’t find them, and that’s bugging me because there are some important ones in there), upon which there are (amongst other baubles (and one very important Kitty)) two heart-shaped decorations with a carousel horse in the middle, and hanging underneath the base of each, hangs a bell: one with a ‘J’ and one with an ‘S’. So that our Neverborns are on the tree, and a part of our ‘family’ Christmas.

Ouch. (But in the kind of ‘I’d rather have them there than not’ way…)

Underneath the tree, along with a few, illicit token presents (we tried SO hard to get everyone to go along with our ‘no presents and donate the money to where it can be used to HELP’ scheme… *sigh*) stands our Nativity set. It lives up in the loft at my Mum’s, because it’s in a big, bulky box, and we haven’t managed to store everything very coherently at home. I remembered it was up there while we were round at the weekend with Husby’s parents (over from Ireland, requiring me to be ‘Up’ and ‘Daughter-In-Law-ish’ all the time (I mostly succeeded)), and popped up to fetch it down.

While I was up there, I saw all the bags and bags and bags and boxes, all labelled with our names, indicating ‘baby clothes’ or ‘travel system’ or ‘cot bumper’, because before miscarriage and infertility made mockery of our expectations and rendered our hopes as painful as ragged blades across the heart, some of our ‘village’ passed on their old stuff, so that we’d be set up and ready, when the happy event occurred.

It’s sat there for four and a half years. It could sit there forever.

Except it won’t, because just lately my heart has been about letting things go, and not hanging onto useless ‘stuff’ or ‘treasures’, which could be busy enabling someone less fortunate than I am. Four and a half years of travesty, sitting hoarded in an attic, when there are parents in my city who haven’t the money for new clothes for their children. There is a charity which caters to women who are struggling with unplanned pregnancy, abortion, or miscarriage. I received counselling there after my two losses. They’re good. They take donations of items to give to mums who have nothing. It’s all going to go there in January.

I can’t hang onto it any more. Not in my conscience, and not in my heart. All that stuff will prove to be a HUGE blessing to new families who are in urgent need. And Mum’s face lit up when she heard I’d figured out a way of freeing up some of the space in the loft. Win. Win. Win. (#SilverLinings?)

Except it’s not.

Because we still lose. Because chronic illness and infertility are bastards. Because miscarriage is pain of the highest order, even now. And because it sucks more than I can begin to describe that my [insert words conveying utter repugnance] ex-brother-in-law can have ANOTHER child, with someone else, after the way he behaved towards my Sis, Niece and Neff.

And it sucks that after I dragged myself to church today, to accompany my MIL (and to make-believe that everything’s normal), the preacher seemed to suggest that if we pray with faith, we get our hearts desires. UmmmREALLY?!?!? Methinks not – or my heart is somehow desiring entirely the wrong things. Pffft! And it sucks that of the WHOLE church, the place the couple with the small, noisy babychild decided to sit behind me. And let him make cute, adorable baby-noises through the sermon while I was trying to concentrate on not standing up to tell the preacher that she was WRONG, or God was a big, fat LIAR.

Cos yeah, the perfect thing you need when you’re sad about babies and mentally yelling at God for being a prick and not letting you have one, is someone else with their very-much-alive-and-lovely baby, somehow feeling a magnetic attraction to sitting as close as possible. Ha. Ha. Ha. Thanks a bunch – is that cosmic humour? It sucked.

Then there was a weekend of SO MUCH FOOD. All very nice. But a struggle for me, right now. So I ‘let it go’ and Ate All The Things. Like ‘normal’. Because Parents-In-Law. But even they, when they first saw me, were impressed with my figure, so I *know* I’m right, and just need to keep trying. I tellya, the sooner Christmas is over and done with, and the Month Of Everyone In The World Going On A Diet begins, the happier I shall be.

And then, just to top it all off, I had a haircut, to go with my new glasses. It’s a bit radical and probably really nice, and I’ve only had good feedback on it. But it’s not today. Not to me. Because I saw some photos of it when it looked great, and then some which made me hate it and wish I’d never done it. And I have to wear it to work tomorrow. I shall just pretend I’ve had it forever, and no-one will be the wiser, except my colleagues, who will be shocked, but will get used to it. And perhaps once I’ve got used to it, if my confidence grows, I’ll share a pic of it. But not yet.

After my haircut I popped over the road to see my Grandad (who’s looking shockingly thin *sadface*) and discovered that my Aunty was there. And learned that my Dad’s annoyed with me for not being in touch. Which he hasn’t been either. So when we get a phone again, I need to give him a ring and explain myself. But none of that was fun.

And so it was – a result of the pile-up of All The Things, a dose of anxiety exacerbated by a weekend of hosting and an upcoming January appointment I don’t want to go to – that I ended up crying on Husby’s shoulder earlier, listening to Oasis, and wishing there was a way to believe their lyrics; that I’ll see those faded stars shining again one day soon.

#SilverLinings – at least we’re in a place where I want him to comfort me, and he’s able to

#SilverLinings – at least the music has come back into my soul (when the music goes, I know I’m in a bad place)

#SilverLinings – the £1 can of shitty mojito is still in the fridge, being a boundary I haven’t crossed

#SilverLinings – I gathered up all my sadnesses and wrote a long, sumptuous letter to Mandi, which distracted me beautifully and gave me the chance to ‘be a shining star for someone else’ (according to Joy, that’s how it works). This here one’s the *twinklysparklygoodness* bit…

#SilverLinings – Shot hair is still easier to look after, and it gave my lovely hairdresser a challenge and a laugh.

#SilverLinings – I worked at being a better granddaughter. And succeeded.

#SilverLinings – I learned I have people on, and offline, who respond to a sad, vaguebook status with compassion and care, rather than snark. I needed it, and they were gentle with me, and I’m grateful. I don’t make it a habit of crumbling in public, but I felt I had no outlet while Husby’s parents were here, and it was just what was possible at a time when life was momentarily too much.

#SilverLinings – Monday will be normal. I will work. I will box. We will shop. There will be peace. One glitterbomb will be sent, and one mystery parcel collected from the post-office (which I think is an order I made, containing Niece and Neff’s Christmas presents, and it would be SO very useful if it were that, or they’ll be getting a box of fancy cereal and an apology from their crappy Aunty).

#SilverLinings – Helping is better than hoarding. It is. And IF, at some point in future, we get lucky, well…someone, somewhere will have cast-offs we can use.

#SilverLinings – I wrote. Fuck you, Facebook.

Bring me those stars.

*remembers manners* Hey, you. It’s been, like, eight days, right? How are YOU?

61 thoughts on “Stop Crying Your Heart Out

  1. Lizzi….I’m going to just comment with silver linings here because I know I’m late to read this. I’ve been meaning to come to it, and today decided I was going to mark this off my list, and I’m so glad I did because I get to say this: It’s 2015, and I get to hug you in real life this year. Silver linings, my star. It’s going to be a great year.

    Your writing here is so beautiful. I’ve missed it.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Ack…these things happen. Often, in my life, at the moment, but…at least in the end I usually manage to find some silver linings, or a friend to pull me out of the Abyss.. 🙂 Thanks for stopping by here 😀


  2. Pingback: Ten Things of Thankful #80 | Considerings

  3. Yes. Fuck you Facebook! I’m glad you wrote. I don’t like the sermon because not true not true not true not true. Hugs and love. Much much to you. Merry Merry Lizzi. ❤

    Liked by 1 person

    • She had a point, it was just very badly made. Which happens sometimes. But I WROTE, and things are better this end of the week, and getting it out was GOOD 🙂 *hugs* You’re a good’un, my dear ❤ Thank you for you 🙂 I'm merry 🙂


  4. Funny how life works, isn’t it? Funny how you wonder at the things you really, REALLY want to be. *sigh* I’m glad this Christmas is a million times better than last year. For me, too. It’s a zillion times better than the year before that, and the year before that. Cheers to 2015: the best year, EVAH!

    Liked by 1 person

  5. I’m so sorry for your losses, Lizzy! I don’t think that pain ever goes away totally. The scars will remain but heal slowly. That’s a big step donating the boxes of baby things. You’ve found some beautiful silver linings…you’re going to be better than okay. Writing is therapy! I love this post. Oh, and the song is beautiful.

    Liked by 1 person

  6. I’m glad you wrote. I’d worry much more if you didn’t write at all. And remember that Christmas isn’t my holiday, so I’m here. But so are so many others, because you are Lizzi and we love you.

    Liked by 1 person

    • I know. And I remember that you being there on Christmas day last year was SUCH an important thing for me – that I was able to reach out to you and get a reply on that otherwise clogged up day…that was amazing and I’m so thankful. You helped. Huge.

      And I’ll remember that you’re there this year, too. And thank you. *hugs*


  7. I remember many Christmas seasons where I wanted nothing to do with it-somehow I’m still that person only a little different. It’s hard to feel all happy and giddy when there’s a hole in our heart and soul, obviously I have no complains now, except that I am paralyzed with worry …but we carry on; right and magically everyone is happy. (Sigh) for now that is my for everyone, happiness. …sending you a giant hug through the internet waves.

    I came across a saying from Voltaire that I kind of, sort of like:

    “God is a comedian playing to an audience that is too afraid to laugh”

    Let’s laugh out loud Lizzi 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

    • You’re right – onwards and upwards and together we’re stronger. I think it can be such a hard time of year to navigate – so many feelings which get thrown into the mix, and somehow we still have to pull off the ‘perfect’ Christmas, whilst feeling dreadful inside (at times).

      I hope you manage yours, my friend, and that you feel less anxious and worried, and that things go smoothly.


  8. Cosmis humour is the worst! And probably only funny for the one joking. Seriously.
    But I hope it helped a little to get it of your chest, and it’s good to see the list of silver linings at the end. I hope it will grow and grow and grow 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

  9. So much of this resonated with me, Lizzi: the hurt, sadness and deception, and also the Hope. I’m glad you have such an amazing circle of friends who act as mirrors of your True self and encourage you to go from wading in to climbing from the pit. May you continue to use your gifts for Good and may God gift you your heart’s desires, in His way.

    And may His way become ours.

    With heart, healing & hope,

    Liked by 1 person

    • Thanks Dani – you know I read your post the other day, and that resonated with me, too. *sigh* Something about the time of year and the epic suckiness of it all. At least we have friends and people around us to love, and who love us. We are very blessed, really.


  10. My favorite part of this,
    “Fuck you Facebook”
    because YEAH! SO MUCH.
    You know what I’m going to say, and I love that.
    And I love that you can still be a shining star for others when you’re going through this.
    (Also,EFF YOU Universe. A little. Sometimes.)
    So many people tell me there’s a grand plan, and a reason for everything, but what if that reason sucks?
    I know, not much we can do about it, except what you do. Breathe in, breathe out, eventually reconnect and shine with others that are here. Find our place. Find happiness in those that we love, and that love us.
    Your dad sounds like my dad and more often my Grandmother, who always complained that people didn’t call her. When I asked her, “Is your phone able to dial out?” all I got was a nastydirty look! Oh, too funny.
    Glad you were able to get some decorations up for Christmas. I feel like that’s a good sign. I know, what the hell do I know? Not much. But we make the best of it because the alternative is even worse. You have a wonderful family, a loving husband, and the MOST amazing friends in the world. And you’re a shining star for more people than you could possibly ever imagine. I’m not spiritual, but I definitely think that is part of your plan. To be that shining star, in whatever way possible. I’m THANKFUL for that!
    Merry Christmas my beautiful *twinklysparklyGOODNESS-filled* friend

    Liked by 1 person

    • Well….thank you 😀 *grinning* I’m so happy you think that. Just lately I’ve been thinking that it might be part of my ‘Plan’ to care for others – to love them and keep loving them and bringing the sparkles and glitter and goodness and silver linings and just…be *there*.

      Maybe 🙂

      But I’d kind of like that, so I’m going to do it anyway, for a bit 🙂

      Your Grandma sounds silly. What a shame she was mean about it.

      You know more than you let on. Christmas decorations are definitely a good sign 🙂 I’m glad of them.

      I have SUPER-AWESOME-FABULOUS-BRILLIANT friends, and I’m so pleased to be able to count you amongst them 🙂 ❤


  11. There was so much about you that I never understood until recently. I feel the pain you are going through and hope one day your dreams will come true. I know more about this subject than you think. I have gone through this awful hell with not only my own daughter but also my very best friend. Each has gone different ways. My friend is still trying a miscarriage but the fact she managed to get pregnant was a shock and brought hope to us at long, long last. My daughter was different story. She had been told since she was 14 that it would never be possible for her to have a baby. The hell we went through as we watched her struggle with this for so many years until a fluke appt with a new gynecologist offered her hope. Many, many hormones and psychotic mood changes later she did conceive and while that has been it’s own rollercoaster of hell she had twins last month. They were very, very early at only 28 weeks but doing well. I’m telling you this for one reason. There are medical advances every single day. I hope and pray that one day one of these advances will have you and your husbands name all over it. I hope this more than you know because I believe that you will make a wonderful mother.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Thanks so much for your kind thoughts, Rena. Sadly the capability to be a parent has nothing to do with the capability to reproduce. If there is a medical advance which can fix this, we’ll be on it like white on rice, but for now we wait and see, and try not to hope too hard.

      I’m glad your daughter finally got her miracle babies. That’s awesome 🙂 I don’t think I realised she’d been through so much to have them.

      Liked by 1 person

  12. Oh, Lizzi, I wish I had the skill with words that you do. I can only hope that my comment can somehow convey the comfort that I wish to give. I can’t change the situation, but I can lend a virtual shoulder and listening ear. ((hugs))
    By the way, I don’t think there is anything wrong with your heart or desires. I’m sorry the sermon implied that there was.
    Thank you for writing–and hurray for working internet!

    Liked by 1 person

    • Yes – I could never, EVER have written this on my phone – I would have thrown it first!

      I think I understand what the sermon was getting at; it was just crudely (or obviously) phrased, and I took issue with the nuance and got cross. But STILL!. A dangerous message to leave out there unqualified. God isn’t a vending machine. Thanks for thinking I’m alright in what I’d like. Guess it’s just a sucky situation, What I want isn’t outrageous – just denied us because of ill health.

      Thank you for the comfort of your words 🙂


  13. The world is a horrid and unfair place most of the time. And when we think it could possibly not get any worse it does. And sometimes it then is nice and sarcastic by reminding us of it….

    But you are doing the best you can by trying to make it a better place. So basically you are telling the world “Well you suck, but F*** that I’m going to make a difference”. And you are.

    And while the world may not see that, the people who’s lives you touch are great-full in their hearts for you.

    You are beautiful, since you have a inner light that the world can’t extinguish. (HUGS) Keep on shining.

    Liked by 2 people

    • Well, wow…thanks Serins 🙂 And yes – you’ve caught my attitude quite well there. That’s my plan. Make a difference, be the change – whatever it is which leaves the world a better place than I found it, and more filled with love and care. Because in the end, LOVE is what matters, and looking after each other.

      I hope that more and more of the world begins to see that, and joins in. In spite of all the unfairness, which is just…endemic, I think.


  14. The only thing in the world I fear is the loss of my child. I say that because it’s the closest I can come to claiming I understand how you feel. Being a man I know there are many parts of what you feel that I can’t even imagine. That being said I’ll get to the one thing that I do know for sure.. You have got real courage,honest to goodness guts, being pissed off but God and life in general sounds like a very healthy attitude given what you’re dealing with. I have no idea how but I have seen so many times in life that at some point something comes out of tragedy that is a blessing. This is not some Ailey fairly, pie-in-the-sky, religious conviction, it is something I have witnessed. I want you to know that despite the fact that I have not lost a child someone I love very much was killed, murdered and so I know how it feels to wonder if you can bear another day. After time I began to realize that my ability to care so much was more my strength than my weakness and that I only needed the courage to be willing to care again and keep caring, unwilling to let anything stop me from feeling life and being touched by it. When I get to really tough place I always remind myself that when I look back six months from now it will look different than it does while I’m standing in the middle of it and so it always does. I am taking a moment right this moment thinking of you to send you strength and hope and the simple words of another human being who knows how hard life can be and how beautiful you have to be inside to have a heart that can be broken.

    Liked by 1 person

    • You definitely reminded me of a saying I’d forgotten – that in 14 days time, I’ll be two weeks past this [moment right now] – THANK YOU. *smiles* Yes!

      And you’re spot-on about the ability to care being a strength. I’ve found that if (when I feel awful) I try to do nice things for people I love, it matters, and it makes it somehow better, or repurposes the pain or something like that, and that lifts me, even if only a little.

      Thank you so much for taking the time to leave this comment. It really helped.

      I’m sorry that you know such hurt, but…you were able to share your experience with me, and I appreciate it so much. And I’m glad you think my attitude is healthy – that’s generous 🙂


      • You are most welcome and I am pleased to hear my comment was helpful. I truly believe that character only comes through the confrontation of life’s challenges and the experience of life’s difficulties. Those who sail through life untouched by trials are in so many ways blind.

        Liked by 1 person

        • I’ve heard that kind of thing before – “And not only this, but we also exult in our tribulations, knowing that tribulation brings about perseverance; 4and perseverance, proven character; and proven character, hope;” 🙂


            • We might have to agree to disagree there – I have various bits of empirical which suggest that OTHER people can see tenderness and beauty in a broken heart, where the owner can only see a mess 😉


              • It takes a while to get the view and perspective. In the meantime you may have come farther than you think because I feel quite sure after reading several of your posts that you could make a rock laugh hysterically and a snow person poop fireballs!

                Liked by 1 person

                • Now THAT is quite the accolade! Wow!

                  I’ve never considered myself funny…in writing. In Real, I’m hilarious, but in word, I have to try REALLY hard to be amusing, and I’m not always sure I get the balance quite right. Joy (ComfyTown Chronicles) is my go-to for written humour, and she does it so well.

                  I shall keep striving to see what good will come of my heart, though, and in the meantime I’ll gather up all the broken corners and use them to pour out care and love and good things like that, onto my friends and family 🙂


  15. Life is heartbreakingly unfair sometimes — but I like how you are still able to see some silver linings. It’s the little things like that, that keep us going — but I know how damn hard it can be to find those silver linings sometimes. Hugs!

    Liked by 1 person

    • Your post the other day was a bit of an inspiring one for me, Jana. I’m glad you wrote it – it was one which helped me to read, so thank you for that.

      Life sucks. Then it sucks more. Sometimes it sucks less. But it does SUCK. And THAT is what I would tell my 16 year old self. I try hard at those Silver Linings. They matter. They definitely keep us going.


  16. My dear and extraordinary Empire Gal. I feel like I have been on another planet lately but kept popping in to see when this post would come. I knew the words were inevitable. I just wasn’t sure exactly what the words would be. I offer you my heart because it’s all I can offer. I am here if you need me (which you know) and I am proud of the fact that you have found some Silver Linings in the midst of one of the most difficult times for you. I am so proud of you for deciding to give to unprepared mothers. It is a good thing and huger than huge (Yes I know huger is not a word and nope I don’t care). Good for you for writing it out. So yes, fuck you Facebook because when she writes, she does it spectacularly. XX and L-Word you. Always.

    Liked by 1 person

    • “When”?

      Ackk! I guess so. *sigh* #SilverLining – you (was gonna end that with a rest of sentence about ‘knowing and checking in and keeping a weather eye out for me’, but it seemed like a pretty complete sentence by itself). Thank you, my DA, more than you know, for your support and wisdom. You’re another who’s been there in the ‘live’ version of some of this, and I so very appreciate it. Huge.

      And you said some lovely things, too 🙂 Thank you *smiles* ❤

      (Huger? Totally a word – no red wibbles (but there are under 'wibbles'))

      Liked by 1 person

  17. stepping out of the dark, even just a little can be be a thing of value (not yet realized) when witnessed by someone who (eventually) will be stepping into the dark.
    the identification (among clarks)…not of facts or circumstances, but feelings and understanding, is an amazing thing, so thank you.

    Liked by 1 person

  18. I adore you. Twinklysparkles and sadness and all.

    I opened the e-mail as soon as I saw the title because I’ve been doing a lot of crying my heart out. With what feels like no reason (although I do know that depression is real and a thing and we can be depressed without epic things, though it’s hard to accept that sometimes).

    Keep writing. Because it’s what we do. And it’s who you are. Cries and sparkles and all.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Thank you. So, so much. Because yes – I’d forgotten about writing and how it’s like breathing, and I think I began to suffocate a bit. *sigh* No more.

      Sorry to hear you’ve been in a similar position. And yeah – *knowing* the logic and FEELING it are two very different things. And yes it’s hard to accept.


      Liked by 1 person

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