It has been said that God never gives you more than what you can handle. I wish He had less faith in me. I look around, and I know I have many blessings. Things that other don't have, a beautiful healthy child, a safe warm home, plenty of food, clean water, medical care, an education, and those are just the basics. I see all those things, and I am grateful. Yet I am not happy. I still feel not good enough, not loved, not cared about. I still carry this deep sadness, and I can't seem to lift it.
I am working on my connection to God and my spirituality. I am reciting meditation prayers daily. Sometimes several times a day, if I find enough quiet. Maybe I will have a spirital awakening and my whole life will change. I don't know, that would be great.
But failing that, I am pretty much a wreck recently, and I can't help but wonder, what I could have possibly done to deserve to feel THIS bad. I hate to say it, but it feels a little unfair to me.
I realize life is unfair some times. That's just the way it goes, but every time I feel like things are starting to look up I get hit with another wave of stress, depression, or just plain bad luck. I am not sure how much more I can take before I go under. I try so hard. I take my meds, I go to work, I take care of my daughter, I blog, I go to therapy, I am even taking vitamins, and yet, I continue to get beat down by life. It seems to happen over and over, and each time it gets harder to get back up. I suppose, eventually, I won't even care, and I'll just stop picking myself up. But thankfully I am not there yet.
I am horrified of being labled as miserable person, a bad person, a crazy person, or a weak person. So every day I force myself out of bed and I put on my "pretend its all ok" face. Apparently, it is pretty convincing because no one around me (ok, not true, most people) don't seem to have a clue that, on the inside, I am completely falling apart. That I come home and cry (or hide in the bathroom or my car.) They don't seem to notice that I am fighting back tears, that my hands shake, or that I am taking more anxiety medication. Why do I care? Why do I let other people's oppinions impact me so much? Who are they? Well, often times, they are people who I believed loved (love) me. The fact that they don't notice my struggle sometimes hurts me more.
I sometimes wonder what would happen if I just gave up. What if I stopped going to work, just didn't show up. What if I stopped being people's friend. Stopped helping others, supporting them. What if I just disappeared for a week, or a weekend? Sent my daughter with her dad, and decided the hell with everyone else, I am going to draw, read, meditate, and not worry about a damn thing for awhile. What would happen then? How would my life change? What keeps me from doing that, taking care of me?
