It's been two years

Two years ago now, give or take some, I almost died because of complications with my pregnancy. And then our premature baby almost died due to a virus infection.

And that was it. We didn't die. We didn't have any major physical consequences from this. We're fine now, bodily speaking.

The baby is a toddler now, two years old. Small and slender but healthy and smart as a whip. Talks like a waterfall, can do anything by herself (she says) and applauds herself and shouts "Bravo!" when she manages something difficult. She eats and sleeps and talks and irritates her big sister and she lives. Very much she lives.

I, on the other hand, am still not myself. I'm locked in. I'm cut off. I'm lonely.

I used to be the life of the party. A happy go lucky type of a person. Charming. Talkative. A bit obnoxious but charismatic.

Now I'm isolated and quiet. I go to work, I go home, I do household chores and look after kids and animals, I cuddle for half an hour with my wife in front of the teve, I go to bed without her because the baby can't sleep without me and she can't sleep with the baby. And then I wake up and we do it all again.

I want to scream about it. But I'm mute.