Sometimes when I wake up in the morning, I’m afraid to turn on the kitchen light and start my day. I can feel it on those days, the air is a little bit heavier, and my chest is a little more tight than usual. I’m afraid because I can’t handle any more disappointment.
Staring at the pile of clean laundry for the 6th day in a row, thinking maybe today is the day that I find the motivation to start folding it. Not sure why it’s so hard to complete the simplest of tasks. The same dishes have been in the sink for a week, but the invisible force is still stopping me from grabbing that Scrub Daddy and getting to work.
I can handle feeding the dog, the turtle, and the kids. Mostly because they don’t stop reminding me that it’s breakfast time. Sometimes I forget to feed myself, we can call that the survival mode meal plan.
It’s a couple days later now, because I couldn’t bring myself to open my laptop and stare at the screen feeling sorry for myself. 100 job applications later and I’m left wondering what’s wrong with me? What does everyone else have that I don’t? Most of them don’t even reject me. They just disappear into whatever corporate void eats resumes and self-confidence.
I can feel the man I manifested slowly pulling away, or maybe my brain interprets uncertainty as abandonment, and then sets itself on fire. I’m not sure if it’s because of something I said or did, or if he also shuts everyone out when he’s dealing with hard things. That’s another thing I keep crying about, but I would never tell him that. It’s not his fault, I fell too hard, too fast. I wish he would believe me when I look him in the eyes and tell him that he will be ok.
What did I do in a past life to deserve this one? What perfect storm of personality traits came together to create this shit show in my brain that self-sabotages everything I’ve ever had? Will I ever get my happy ending? What one decision did I make that set forth this current path? Can it be un-done?
I stopped believing in God in high school, and “Oh my God, ” “Jesus Christ,” and “God Dammit” are staples in my vocabulary. Manifested man and I were laying in his bed the other night, and I said , “Oh my god!” He put his finger over my lips and whispered “Gosh. Oh my gosh.” Despite the… pleasure of the situation, I almost started crying. This man who was going through so much, still had enough faith to not use the Lord’s name in vain.
I started thinking that maybe I should start praying again. Maybe I should open my mind, and maybe not blindly believe, but maybe pray that God does exist, and that he will lead me down the right path. I just know that living in survival mode, like I have been for the past decade, is not sustainable.
I want to believe in fate, and destiny, but I can’t even see my own future anymore. I want to believe that what manifested man and I have is meant to last, because I have never felt so connected to someone. I just feel everything slipping away. That’s what always happens. I don’t know if this is rock bottom, a detour, or just another Monday. I just know I can’t keep calling this survival and pretending it’s a life.
✨ Spark Note:
If anyone needs me, I’ll be staring at the clean laundry and waiting for one of us to make the first move.
So far, it’s a stalemate.
✨
inarticulate sparkle. 
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