The old Me

I sometimes look at old photos from my Instagram feed. I look at all these photos of myself from the last few years, eyes shining and sparkling. Since Michael came into my life, I find myself beautiful in most of the photos he takes of me.

Today, I look at these photos that my boyfriend took of me and I miss this girl. I miss this happy, cheerful girl, who feels like the luckiest in the world. I watch all our adventures together, our impenetrable joie de vivre, our moments of madness, our positivity.

How can we manage to go from the most beautiful to the most awful in a year…?

I just came across this wonderful video that Michael had prepared for my 32nd birthday. A montage of videos of me, of us, with him playing and singing “I got you, Honey” by Ocie Elliot, a song that I love.

I see all the comments under this video, several who wish me a happy year, who find our love so beautiful and inspiring.

Life was good for us. We had everything we could dream of. All that was missing was a beautiful baby to start the family that we wanted so badly to form together as soon as we met. And I got pregnant a few weeks later. Everything was perfect.

I feel that this beautiful couple on this video is still us, but heavily scared.

I spent weeks and months feeling so alone, even though my boyfriend took care of me so well and made sure to put everything in the best way for me. Yet I felt so far from him. And that frightened me immensely. And I told him. And we talked about it. And I cried. And I felt that the gap that had been dug was slowly disappearing. Regardless, he stayed by my side like a rock.

Eventually I realized that it really hurt to be near him. It revived my pain of Alexandre. The love between us, which gave birth to Alexandre, tore me inside.

And time, patience, gentleness, ended up bringing us closer, the gap was erased.

Despite everything, I no longer find us as before and I no longer find myself since the death of Alexandre. Yes we manage to spend beautiful moments together, but I no longer have the same smile, the same naivety in the face of life. Everything is harder, heavier, with a tendency to sadness and nostalgia. I certainly no longer have that look of confidence and that feeling that I am the luckiest person in the world.

I miss this Catherine who had happiness easy. Because now I have to work harder for my happiness. I have to constantly choose this path to survive. And it is sometimes really heavy to bear.

I'm definitely not the same person anymore as I am still grieving.

Mourning the old Me.