It has been a rough few months here in the household. In a series of losses, one after another, a family crisis in Texas, and an impending move for me, it is hard, sometimes, to remain focused. I strive, every day, to do my best. It is a hard pill to swallow when my best is mediocre by most standards.

I have been in quite the slump as of late. I have been in these slumps before, and the show is all too familiar. The scenery never changes, the script is roughly the same, even if the cast isn’t.  I do my best to stay on a routine and hold myself accountable. Sometimes it isn’t enough. Over the years I have learned to accept that some days the dishes won’t be done and that’s okay. I have learned to allow myself a day or so but no longer. No matter what, I don’t permit myself to stay in an irresponsible lull for more than that.

Years ago, before learning coping skills, I would panic. I would allow my mind to follow the rabbit hole down a dark path. I would tell myself that no one would ever want to be around someone like me. No one will ever relate to someone like me. No one will understand what I have been through. I would tell myself I was damaged and unlovable. I lead a self-destructive life. I just no longer cared. I had been treated unimaginably cruel, a cruelness that cannot be matched back in the USA. The treatment I endured continues to affect how I view people and relationships. When I did open up about it to a few people outside of my shrink, it was scoffed at, as though I shouldn’t have been so affected. When I tried to make my claim for benefits, I was again scoffed at. So I gave up the benefits fight (not my VA, my CRSC). All this darkness would decide to lay in bed with me and whisper in my ear how I wasn’t good enough. This darkness made sure that I knew my place was to never try to better myself. This darkness made sure that I would never dare to dream. This darkness told me to settle for less and never stand up for myself.

I am no longer followed so much by that darkness. Through the years and a LOT of work with Wounded Warrior Project, I have learned to reframe my views and change my thinking. I have learned many coping skills and found ways to tell the darkness to bugger off. But, sometimes, the darkness comes in, grabs my feet, and pulls me under the water. Right now, I am desperately trying to keep my head above water.

I live in a place where I have no family. No real friendships. No connections. No lifeline. I have a very strained and complicated relationship with my family, and right now I feel like an orphaned child or like a girl constantly trying to prove her worth, knowing she never can. I am planning a move to be closer to my cousins, but I know that things won’t be perfect there either.

I sometimes wonder if I want to make that move so I can have more excuses to drown. More reasons to explain why I am alone. Why I am not the one who is called unless there is a need for me. I wonder if I am moving because it will be easier to escape where I am now. I feel, sometimes, as though if Midas had a sister who did the opposite of him. Instead of turned all they touched into gold, the sister turned all she touched into aluminum.

If not for my faith that God has something for me, I don’t know how I would survive. I know there’s a reason for my life. A purpose. I know there’s a plan for me and I am working on seeing that plan and I will continue praying for the strength to keep my head above water.

One thought

  1. Some people have a life where we have to become stronger swimmers. As much as we want to give up and let the current carry us away, we can’t for one reason or another. If I find a floatie around here I will gladly toss it over to you. Dang this water is cold!

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