I’m not angry, I’m just tired. Tired of stressing out over things I shouldn’t need to stress about. Things like food, medicine, making sure the special needs people in my life get proper care. The things that keep me up at night, that cause me to make rash decisions. I don’t think I need to tell you about what stress can do to a body. I know for sure it has wreaked havoc on mine. First in 1999 and later in 2015.
I do my best to put things out of my mind through acceptance and self-compassion. But with so many responsibilities slamming me all at once. Hiding under the covers is becoming a viable option once again. The noise of the world can often just be too much. I wish the jester’s mask I wear could just stay on all the time. But unfortunately, it’s only held on by the bullshit smile I must wear. I tell myself I must be strong for the family. But as some members draft away, I’m left holding the remaining pieces. Now much older and much weaker than I ever was before.
So I stand here on my confessional, holding the jagged pieces. Feeling more vulnerable than I have in a while. Maybe I should just keep all this shit to myself. Showing the world only what it wants to see. The success, the vanity, the happy moments that do sometimes exist. But that would serve either you or I. For life is life, and we all have our tribulations. And for most part the only way to survive, is show solidarity. You are not alone.
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