The last month has been exhausting, confusing. A cyclone of emotions
that pull and tear at me, stripping me down to a blank husk of nothing. I
don't know what to think. I don't know what to do. I don't even know
what I feel anymore. . .
An overdose, an ER visit, nearly
shattering my hand by putting it through the stone tile of my fireplace .
. . Things I never thought would happen, places I never thought I'd
arrive at . . . And I'm scared and I'm confused. And I don't know what
to do.
I'm trying not to catastrophize but I'm also trying not to
minimize what's happened. I'm trying to stay positive and derail
negative thoughts. And all of this is so tiring. And I'm tired of
fighting. And when you've felt so bad and so out of control for so long
(over a year now), it's hard to see things ever getting better.
And still I push on. There's nothing else I can do. Regardless of how tired I am or how hopeless I feel or how badly I want to throw in the towel . . . I have to push on - my hubby and son are depending on me - they need me to push on.
I
take things minute by minute, hour by hour, day by day. I have to stay
in the moment or I risk losing everything. I'm pushing on in hopes of
better times, of stability, and of actually being able to feel again.
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