I’m exhausted. That’s an understatement. I get through the day, just barely. I wonder if the next day will be any easier to get through than the day I’m going through now. I know it won’t be. But I make it through anyways. It’s hard to concentrate. Hard to not cry. Hard to live.
My birthday is coming up soon. I will be 31. What do I have to show for my life? Not much. Right now I’m trying to rebuild my house that got flooded. No kids. No accomplishments. No nothing. I still am deeply depressed. I don’t know how – or better yet – why I go on to the next day. It’s a scary feeling wondering if the next day I will be alive for. But at the same rate, it is a peaceful feeling. I am at peace with dying. I know that might not make sense to some people; or downright scare them, but it is a peaceful feeling knowing that if things got so bad that I didn’t feel like I could make it through the day, that I have a way out.
The stress is starting to get to me. I have to be strong though. You know, I’m me, and “me” is supposed to be strong. No matter what I go through, I have to be very strong. I don’t want to be strong anymore. I want someone to be there for me. I want someone to hold me when I cry and not judge. Maybe that is too hard of a request. I don’t want them to tell me everything is going to be ok, because, well, it’s not. Maybe that is too pessimistic of a viewpoint, but why should I be optimistic? What “proof” do I have that life will get better. Yeah, we will recover from this; the house will be done, everything paid off. But how do I know something worse isn’t going to come along?
All I want to do anymore is cry. Life is stressful. And hard. People tell me that God won’t give me more than I can handle. That’s hogwash. I can’t handle this. The flood. The feelings. The wanting to die. I can’t do it anymore. I wonder what God does to failures like me.