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Stream of consciousness, only not really because I can't stand not to punctuate.
2 months ago · 0 · Stress, +3 · Explicit
98
I don't know what I'm going to write here. This is far easier than writing on paper though, that gets to be tedious. Writing letters is good in theory but it takes so long and there's hand cramps involved. It loses its luster quickly.
I am not in a good place. I know I'm not. I haven't been. This past year has been something else. I started out healthy (at least, healthier)-- albeit stressed out and anxious and unsure of how we'd survive.
But I focused on God, more or less. Tried to let go. Tried to just exist and muddle through to the other side.
Right now, I don't know how to define the state of my heart and soul. Do I love God? Yes. Do I believe in Jesus? Absolutely. Am I behaving as if this is true? Not so much. My soul is doing some kind of rumspringa. And I've lost control of the reins.
I love my husband. Truly and honestly. But I feel jaded. Beyond jaded. There's really no word for the emotions I'm navigating on a daily basis. This past year has been riddled with mental and emotional battles. Questioning my sanity. Wondering what's real and what isn't. Wading through placations and false security at the hands of the only other person besides myself who is supposed to be caring for my whole being. I've been cyclically gaslighted enough times that I think I'm gaslighting myself.
You can only be spoonfed bullshit for so long before you can no longer stomach the taste.
I think most people would have had a weaker gag reflex for said bullshit. They wouldn't have taken it for as long as I have. Lucky me, my gag reflex is strong and apparently I have grown accustomed to the taste.
I know I'm supposed to be longsuffering. God himself is. I'm not guaranteed a happy or peaceful existence, free of all of.. this.
But it doesn't mean it isn't hard. It doesn't mean that I have no breaking point. Maybe I'm not supposed to have one, but here I am. Trying to will myself to bend a little more without snapping. Imagine a celery stalk-- they can withstand a substantial amount of bending and warping before they snap. Be celery, I tell myself.
(I've never actually said that. I don't particularly care for celery.. huh. I don't particularly care for myself either. Interesting parallel, subconscious.)
I don't know what I'm getting at. In summary, I know I need to be leaning into God and relying on Him. Forcing it down my metaphorical throat and singing praises in the prison, so to speak. I know. My mind knows. Mentally, I know.
Emotionally, I'm a wreck. I love my husband but I hate where his reckless decision making has brought us. Of course I'm not blameless, I have a voice that I could have used at any point. I just chose to follow. Biblical submission? Or lack of wisdom? Neither here nor there, now.
I'm a wreck because I love Him and I love him, lowercase. I want to follow God. But it's hard. I am angry, I am bitter. I am pushing away what I need to thrive and letting myself fall down the rabbit hole. Texting someone who I care nothing about, who I know cares nothing about me, because it makes me feel.. something. Same with stupid, juvenile, superficial cutting.
Same with mindless activities. Checking out.
It's easier to coast by and do the things that are numbing than to keep feeling the sting of every little thing that's out of my control.
At least I've mostly stopped drinking. Not further damaging my remaining braincells.
I'm a smart cookie. Remember that ACT score? Destined for great things. But then I got a degree in a job that paid beans to ultimately occur loads of debt and not even work to pay it off, married to a man who had (up until the eleventh fifteenth hour) no work ethic and no desire to lead his family from poverty. And in those fifteen hours, irreparable damage ensued. A hole too deep to claw out of was dug.
Now, I wanted to stay home and raise kids.
Didn't know this when I incurred the aforementioned debt, but it's something I came to.
I just didn't imagine it looking this way:
~Wrestling with my worth day in and day out because my brain has reached its maximum capacity. Finding validation in the most meaningless of encounters while shirking what I know I need. Feeling like I have nothing to give my kids because, on top of my damning mental load wreaking havoc on my brain for all of this time, I'm experiencing hella hormone fluctuations at both menstruation AND ovulation time, meaning a good chunk of the month I feel absolutely terrifyingly void.
Feeling like nobody finds worth in me. I mean yeah my kids do, but I mean people who have to choose to.
My friends could care less if they see me, talk to me, know me. I'm an option, a convenience, an acquaintance. I'm the celery by the buffalo chicken dip, when you really wanted to use a cracker but all those delicious chicken flavored ones ran out, and at least a crunchy celery is better than the crumby bits left in the bottom of the bowl.
I'm not a crummy bit, I guess. Not usually. But fuckin celery ain't much better, kid.~
Every day there are more calls, letters, emails, notices. Bills. Unexpected correspondence.
Think Harry Potter getting the letters, but instead of letters, it's flaming dog shit. And I'm Harry, letting it all rain down on me.
And I'm also Uncle Vernon, escaping to the hut. Finally finding a moment of peace. (It's cycles, every week weeks it blows up and then blows over into a new wave of peace before once again building up into the next blow up.)
But ultimately the letters find them, no end in sight. No end in sight. No end in sight. No escape.
And yeah, we've been reading Harry Potter at bedtime.
There's no end to this. I'm convinced. There's no end to the constant, continual, endless, terrible, gutwrenching, breathtaking, violent barrage.
And the worst part is how silent such damage can be. Nobody knows the extent and the depth and, hell, most people don't even know anything is going on at all. I'm fine, my life is wonderfully whole and so am I.
I've called out to God. He knows.
My husband knows.
But it's like my screaming has a silencer on it.
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