I Have To Admit.

I'm so sorry (not sorry) that my posts are not as upbeat and vivacious as I'd like them to be. They're real, raw, and uncut (what show is that from?). I just feel that I have to be honest.....I don't feel like I can confide in any one person about this stuff, so I might as well confide in all of you. I deeply apologize if this upsets you or changes your opinion of me, but I physically cannot pretend to be okay any longer when I'm not. Most of the time, I feel like I'm underwater, desperately clawing my way back to air. Every time I break the surface, I get pulled back under by the riptide. Occasionally, someone at shore will see me and yell, "You're doing a great job! Keep going, you can do it!" But you know what? They're standing safely on land, warm and dry. They don't know what it feels like, and they're not even offering a rope, much less swimming out to meet me where I am. I take that back. There was someone wading in, finding perfection in my flaws and my struggle. They got close enough to grip my fingers, and then....abruptly turned away. I have multiple anxiety attacks each week. I can't sleep, and instead spend my nights worrying and trying to pray myself out of the current. Oh God, please don't get me wrong: I'm happy. My son's smile lights my whole world and I have so much to be thankful for. I just feel incredibly, earth-shakingly alone most days. I have so much going on that I'm surprised I remember to shower. I need someone to hold my hand, give me a hug, and let me be me....but it's so hard to let them in. I can't help but to feel that no one should have to bear this burden. To compound this, Sawyer's daycare director told me that she doesn't feel that I'm as involved as I should be. She doesn't see me except when I drop him off before school and she's "concerned." As if I don't already feel inadequate enough (I had to stop breastfeeding, I go to school in the morning and come home from work to a sleeping boy at night, etc.), today one of my worst fears as a mother came true: I slipped on wet tile while carrying my baby, and we both hit the floor. I managed to hang on to him until the very last second, but he still got scared and a puffy eye. I cried for hours. I am the one person in the world he's supposed to depend on and trust, and I let him down. I had been free of anxiety and loneliness for THREE DAYS, and slid my way right back in. I feel like I need to say it again: I'm happy and grateful for life, and I still manage to find the humor in everything. I only want for a hand to hold and someone to stand firm at my side, come what may. Someone nearby has the key to all my locked doors, I can feel it. Where are you? I'm sure I know you already; your spirit seems familiar. When?

I'm sorry I'm such a rambly mess. Lots of weird stuff accumulates in your brain when you can't sleep and have anxiety. It will get better soon, pinky promise.