I’ve always become quieter on here when life is hard in ways I can’t write about.
So nearly two months have passed since I last typed in this space of mine; my thoughts trapped in my mind and let out a little on Instagram here and there.
Life is hard, and I yearn for a break from the constant upheaval of our pasts colliding with our present. All these years of trauma and loss and anger and grief and searching has led to me feeling completely depleted. I have days I simply go through the motions of life because I’m not really sure where I stand.
And the guilt that comes with that. Overwhelming. If anyone is reading this thinking, “Husband retired, new home, healthy baby, etc” sorry – it doesn’t equal instant happiness. With some of those (materials things) comes a price tag, and some are much more costly than others.
This is life after war. After loss. After addiction. After traumatic events. After five years of therapy.
I’m on Zoloft. Sam is on too many meds to list. We both see psychiatrists and therapists. I got news last week that something is wonky with my own heart, so that may start a new process I have zero desire to face.
I love my life overall, it’s not that I sit around and cry all day. We have fun times and we are trying so hard. I update and take picture to remind myself of all the good, all the lovely. And that helps.
But it’s the day to day struggle of this all that is wearing me down. I feel – lost. Still. Lost and alone. Sometimes angry, sometimes apathetic. Sometimes wistful and sometimes I just want to ask God to please let us catch our breath for a while.
Just – I don’t know. Tell me I’m not the only one.