Hope

I've struggled to write because I see I'm repeating the same old things. I went into my closet, of things I don't want to deal with, and found a box of many old journals. Most were about 10 years old and they all said the same things: sad about my marriage, feeling hopeless, some sort of focus on my weight, and wishing for a different life. Year after year it was the same thing. I stopped writing as I was boring myself.

Looking for the truth of this moment. Because every moment like every breath is new. Good, bad, or otherwise there has to be even the smallest of shifts. Right now, while going into year two of the worst time of my life, I realized that giving up isn't an option. And I want to give up. I don't want to go on right now. As I said in a previous post, the pain feels like being burned alive. To add to it more keeps going wrong and it compounds all the feelings. Every day the spiral gets worse. I'm punchy, on the edge of tears, not wanting to be around friends, using, plummeting. But I can't give up. I can't.

It's so hard not to ask what it is about me that I can't just have an even and peaceful existence. Flat tire, layoff, maybe some fraud, but not forever processing some fucked up moment from the past. It's exhausting. I see why it exhausts those around me. It's why I will shut up and not tell anyone what is happening because I'm just so fucking sick of the shame of being me.

I've lost count of all the plans and aspirations I've had over the past months to try to get my mind back in working order. Didn't go over a week with any of them, and most didn't even make it past the 24 hour mark. Is it just cracked? Is this one of those mind benders you don't come back from? Again, my arch nemesis of hope tries to sneak in.

Hope is terrifying to me. Hope has always let me down. Hope hurts me. Yet it's really all I have left right now.