This heart is tired. I’m soooo tired.
It takes everything I have just to get up in the morning and keep on keeping on.
And so often it feels like – same shit different day … if you know what I mean…
It’s so hard when there’s not really any end in sight. So hard when it’s not like anyone can stand up and say to me “Everything’s gonna be alright” – unless they are my very own fairy godmother or something and they can turn my rags into a beautiful ball gown and turn my tears into rosy cheeks with perfect skin …
The truth – if you want the truth, is that I’ve been really depressed.
And I know I am, cause when I’m depressed my room is a tip. Every single item I own will be on the floor and I just add to the chaos each night before I get into bed because quite frankly when I’m like this I don’t give a damn.
I always know when the first ray of light is peeping in because this is the moment when I’ll be like – enough is enough and I’ll clean up.
That moment was yesterday.
But I also am beginning to recognise when the ray of light is only temporary, and this is when once more I just leave my crap on the floor … and that was me last night.
When I’m depressed it’s this vicious cycle. I feel fat and ugly. I don’t want to go anywhere. I just want to put the covers over my head, close my curtains and never, ever go outside, ever again!!
And then, I pick at myself. Every single pimple, blemish I can find, wherever it is on my body, I’ll pick it to shreds.
I’ve been doing this for years. I feel it is a form of self harm in my case because I only do this when I am depressed.
And then, after like an hour I’ll kind of come to, look at myself in the mirror and be like – well now I AM super ugly! How can I go out now?? Which just reinforces my desire to turn all the lights on and sit in the dark.
I cry. At random moments of the day. Hoping no one notices.
I cry in public – I cannot help this. I cry at church. I cry at special family events – hiding my face in the bathroom. Splashing my face with cold water in an attempt to hide my reddened eyes.
But then I plaster on my fake smile and attempt to seem like the life of the party when inside my heart is breaking. Such deep, deep hurt over so many years just will not go away in a day.
This is hard.
I feel this pressure from those around me to keep on – move on – get over it … It’s not like they’ve said that in so many words, but I just sense it when they ask how I am and again I reply with “So, so…” and pause, unable to go on because I know that if I do start to explain then the very small wall over my dam in my heart will fall down and then I fear that I won’t be able to put it back together again.
I’m scared of what might happen if I completely let go and share all. Bare all.
Because every time it does get too much, and I blurt out a rant. A very small rant, just a mere piece of all that I have been through, people are shocked. Absolute horror comes across their faces. And I feel so sorry for having shared. I wish I had just held it inside. I do not want pity. I do not want advice or a plan of how to fix it – because it is unfixable.
I will carry this for ever.
It is simply HOW I carry it that I am working on. I do not want it to consume my every thought.
But at times, I’ve got to be honest, it does.
My friend said something that I am holding on to. She said that when someone has PTSD (post traumatic stress disorder) which is what I have, they find a new normal. Because they will never forget what has happened. But they learn to live on with their lives DESPITE this awful, traumatic thing that has happened to them.
I like this. Because I feel like so many people think and say “Time heals.”
This is true for some things. But it is nearly two years and I still hold soooo much pain that just will not go away no matter how many times I cry out “I let YOU GO!”
So it actually makes sense to me that I am on a journey of finding my ‘new normal.’ This actually makes me feel okay. Rather than living with a sense of urgency to get to this place where what happened to me no longer affects me. Because right now, that just seems absolutely impossible.
I realised this weekend that I am still angry with him. I am angry that he didn’t choose me over his anger. I am angry that he made the choice to keep using anger to get what he wanted rather than deciding to work on healing past hurts and then subsequently healing our marriage …
This hurts me more than I can ever put into words.
In that moment, where he put his ring on the cupboard and began to pack his things and said that I deserved better, that he was LEAVING ME something broke. Something deep, deep inside broke. A little voice piped up and said that I was unloveable. That I was not worthy. That I did not deserve love. That I could not keep my husband home. That it was my fault.
Something deep, deep inside of me changed in this moment.
A moment that I downplayed with my counsellor a year and a half ago because I said that the episode was minor in comparison to all of the other ones. And yes, in terms of the violence, it was minor. But his actions SPOKE volumes. And this has continued to impact on my life almost two years later.
I just hope that in writing and sharing what I have not managed to air out before will help me on my journey to find my new normal. A new life where the old is there but I can hold it with one hand and smile and know that it does not have the power to influence my life anymore.
I am not there yet.
But God willing, one day I will be.
This is my heart poured out on a piece of paper.
This has not been edited, I have typed it as I thought it.
This is honestly, Christy.
Hope this can encourage some of you who have been in this place or who are in this place.
With all my love,