I’m never quite sure when the morning comes if I’m glad I made it through another night or disappointed that I’m still here.
Another day, another fresh start. Or another day of the same old shit. It’s all in how you look at it, the way you choose to see life. I feel like I’m fighting a constant battle with myself, every single day right now.
I know that I can choose to be strong and fight and that I have to, as I have four little people who are my entire world, and I don’t want to be the person to break their hearts.
Yet, it’s so fucking hard and scary. To be brave, to be honest, to face up to my demons, to speak my truth. Constantly doubting myself. Convinced that everything that I do is pointless.
I want to believe so badly that there will be a happy ending for me. That this is just a chapter in the middle of my story and not the final one. That one day, all of this will just be a distant memory, and I’ll be proud of myself for surviving it.
Baby steps. That’s what everyone keeps telling me, but when you’re bogged down in the middle of a shit storm, baby steps don’t get you out of there fast enough. When a minute feels like a lifetime, and you’re not sure how much more pain you can take before you really do break down.
I’m trying to figure out what it is I want, trying to envisage a new life for myself, a life that I can aim for. Trying to be positive. And I usually manage that until about lunch time, and then I can feel the little voice inside shouting at me to not be stupid, nothing is ever going to change. I’ve been in similar places to this before, and while it may get better for a while, in the end, things come crashing back down again, each time a little harder than before.
The days at least, I can keep busy. Kids, life, painting, noise and chatter to distract me. It’s the evenings that are the worst. Left alone with just my thoughts for company. Distractions don’t work. I try to read, but can’t see the words on the page through the tears. Try to watch a movie but can’t focus on what is going on.
I seek solace in the bottom of a bottle, but where once, it numbed, now it makes me feel more. It’s harder and harder to fight off the despair that the evenings bring, harder to see a way through the hurt. It’s proving impossible to find a way to turn my broken heart to stone.
I read a quote the other day, that said that the greatest lesson a woman should learn, is that she has everything she needs inside of her, just the world has convinced her that she doesn’t. I’ve spent years trying to find someone to save me from myself, giving away my power and putting myself in someone else’s hands. I’m trying to figure out how to take it back, to save myself.