No, I'm not talking about myself. I'm talking about all those opportunities that have been missed due to the messed up nature of my life. In case you are wondering, yes I am a tad bit depressed. Today is my middle son's birthday. Today I missed an opportunity to be with my child because of everything that has happened. Today he is hurting because his mother isn't there to hug him and bake him a cake and sing him the stupid "Happy Birthday" song in person rather than by voice mail on his dad's phone because he isn't with his dad, he's with his aunt, who I'm apparently not allowed to have contact information about. Yes, I'm a bit bitter and angry to go with the depression I can't seem to avoid on holidays and birthdays no matter how much I try. I'm not depressed for me, I'm depressed for them. I'm not angry at God, I'm angry at myself, at the stupid weakness that put me in a position to miss all of the important moments that are happening in my children's.
In a way, I'm still missing. I'm missing four huge pieces of my heart. They're in Michigan, where I can't be right now. They're in a household where I'm not welcome. They are my children.