I feel obligated to post something because I made a big fuss about how I was going to post every day for NaBloPoMo and I’ve already jacked it all up and missed a bunch of days. But I don’t have anything worth saying. The last two weeks have been rough. There’s a weight on my heart and it’s hard to breathe. I feel like I’m failing at everything. I’m tired. I’m frustrated. I’m so, so, so sad. I don’t know what to do. Everyone keeps telling me that it will all be okay and I know they are right, I know this will pass, but I can’t see the light at the end of the tunnel and I wish I could go to bed and sleep for a hundred years. Okay, I don’t really wish that. But I wish I could make it through a day without feeling like I’m going to fucking scream or fall apart or die.
The people next door are fighting. Screaming and yelling and throwing things, their children are crying. In my little apartment it is warm and cozy. Mike did all the chores tonight before I even got home, had a hot dinner waiting for me, greeted me at the door with his arms open wide, held me while I tried to catch my breath and keep from crying. So why do I feel like this? Everything is fine, we’re healthy, we have jobs, we’re working towards a better life, we have a home and heat and electricity and families who love and support us. So why can’t I draw a deep enough breath? Why do I feel so utterly alone? So strangled by my first-world problems? Obviously something is wrong with me. I just don’t know what.
