sometimes all I can feel is the pressure and pain pressing in around me. The fog of despair crushing in and trying to drown me. Except nothing is pressing in, it’s all pouring out… from inside of me.
I hate that I am so broken and messed up. I hate that I have to pretend that I am not broken and messed up. If only getting better meant that I was all better, all the time. If only…
I have my good days. And I thank God that those good days seem to be coming a little more often than the bad days. But the good days almost make the bad days seem even more unbearable because I know so clearly what I am missing out on.
Today was a good day. Tonight was not a good night.
Sometimes I have to sit and stare at my boys while they are sleeping, to focus on remembering all the good, wonderful and joyful things that they bring into my life. To drown out the thoughts of frustration, the feelings of failure and loneliness.
I pray that my boys will grow stronger than I can ever guide them to be and that God would protect them from my spiraling emotions.