I realize that a public blog isn’t meant in any way shape or form to be used as a personal diary fully equipped with dark secrets, fugitive skeletons that have somehow escaped their closets, nor any generally profound depressing bullshit. I get it. Not a single fucking person on this planet wants to read TMI shit about anyone, unless they’re obsessed with that person’s life, waiting for them to fail what are those called again? Oh yea, haters. (And why did that sound like it belonged somewhere in the theme song for The Little Mermaid?!)
People don’t read a stranger’s blog to get the scoop on their internal battles against life. People read blogs because they want to learn how to do something even though they’ll never actually do it. They want pictures of artsy food captured in the midst of Sunday afternoon lighting with a serene ocean view in the background. Seriously shut the fuck up. They want recipes they’ll never actually cook. They want positive, giddy, fake AF mommy-hood stories. They want superhero, Zeus-ish fables about people who have “survived” something, anything and how there’s this magical savior “light” at the end of some tunnel. A thing called hope, they keep saying. But is there, really? A “light at the end of the tunnel”? I mean, I suppose there can be. We’ve all been through something and then ultimately survived or saw that things got better right? It’s the circle of life. The highs and the lows; the ups and downs; the infamous merry-go-round.
But that’s the tricky thing about life. There is always another low after a high; another down after an up. There is always another. fucking. tunnel. for you to “get through” waiting for you around the next corner. It never ends. Until it actually does.
So let’s be real. The only tunnel that will ever actually end with a light is life itself. Life is the entire damn tunnel. And the light? Yea that’s death. Let’s take a second to let that sink in.
I realize that this is pretty dark. But this is just my way of crawling through one of my tunnels- gasping for air and waiting for that spec of light. Where is that fucking light?! I’ve been stuck in this tunnel for months and it just never seems to end. It’s cold. It’s dark. It’s sad. And there’s no coffee in here.
Honestly? I’m exhausted. I keep telling myself that my kids- my kids are the light and the reason and the purpose; I need to keep crawling and pushing and fighting through this tunnel for them; because of them. They need me. I need them. I can hear them just outside of this freezing cold cylinder I’m stuck inside of- their faint laughter, the adorable brief arguments, the sound of my name- mom… mommmmm…. mommy. I keep trying to respond but I’m so so tired I can barely get a whisper out. I’m letting them down. I feel like a failure. I feel like no matter how hard I push through, I just can’t get a mental break anymore. I just want to cuddle with them, and remind them a million times in a day how much I love them- and how this life meant nothing to me until they came along with their dreams and their giggles and their imaginary friends and stick figure drawings. I just want them to know- that I fought so hard for them.
I really did.
I don’t know how much longer I can keep fighting for.
Everything is so fuzzy. Blurry. It’s like I’m constantly seeing through a stained window on a foggy morning. Everything has fused with nothing. I see the silhouettes of my children-beautiful little shadows running through my fog. But I just can’t tell what is what anymore.
I don’t know much of anything these days, but what I do know is that I don’t want to be sad anymore. I don’t want to feel pain anymore. I don’t want to use all of my energy towards trying to be something that I’m not, which is “OK”. I am not OK.