Last night I took my daughter to Spur (her favourite place) to distract her from the drama. Whilst she was playing in the play area, I was sitting chatting to my Favourite Person.
I just don't understand the point of it all!
Why? What? What is the point of being alive? Living? If it is one uphill battle, with moments of beauty. The uphill battle sure seems to outweigh the moments of beauty.
After many morning cuddles with my little one, I headed off to the welfare offices to find out about changing visitational rights with her dad. I was on the phone with estate agents about finding a bigger house for us. Amidst what feels like my whole world crumbling, I am able to get up, look after my child and pull reserve energy and will (I don't know where from - I thought I was depleted) to ensure her safety. I realized that my purpose, what its all about, is my daughter. Looking after her. Ensuring her well-being. That is what it is "all about". Not me. But her.
I guess I can equate that a little bit to the heartache of losing a child (even through a miscarriage) - if your intrinsic purpose is to look after your children, losing one feels like the ultimate "life failure". Even if it was unavoidable - I think the primal instinct is there. The feeling that you failed at your primary purpose in life. Looking after and protecting your child.
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