Drowning
Do you ever feel like you're drowning? Like life is to much to handle? Do you feel like there is far to much going on and you can't hold the load anymore? That you aren't strong enough to carry the weight of everything on your shoulders? That you can no longer stand up and you've been brought to your knees under everything? Yeah, that's me right now. Time for a little light into my life.
All my life I've always been the strong one. The one that can survive and thrive no matter how hard life has hit me. No matter the pain, or crushing weight I'm under I've always been the one who can carry the load. Except I didn't just carry it. I carried it and laughed in the face of everything that could try to bring me low. I never cried. I didn't appear to feel pain, and I never let it bring me down. I fought it. And by heaven, I won every time. I've always been strong. I've always been the one to thrive under pressure and excel. I've always been the one to laugh in the face of danger, to make the witty remarks when all hell is breaking loose, and the one to captain the seas that threaten to drown everyone all while having a jolly ol' time. That's always been me. Strong. Fierce. Brave. Reckless. And unafraid of anything. Or so the world believed.
The truth, well that's whole different picture. One no one but a very very very select few have ever seen. Those few have seen the reality of me. That reality is the fact that I'm not strong. Not fierce, or brave, or reckless, or fearless. Yeah, I can be those things, but that's not who I am. I want to run and hide when hell breaks loose, I want to curl in a ball and beg for mercy when the pain sets in. I want to crumble when the load is put on my shoulders. I cry, I feel pain and agony, and I am afraid of all kinds of things. I'm terrified of the world, and I'm scared to death of what may happen in the next few weeks. I'm sensitive, and easily hurt. My heart breaks when I have to tell someone something I know will likely hurt. I'm fragile, and vulnerable. I want to please the world, but know that I will never be enough to please everyone. So, I pull on my mask, and put on my armor, and I keep going. Because there is nothing else I can do. Some days I fight just to breathe, and some days I fight to slow down enough that I can simply be. My brain runs 400 miles an hour nearly every second of every day of every month of every year for as long as I can remember. I can't shut off, and I can't shut down. I'm tired, and weary, and so very very exhausted. The person I allow the world to see is not the one that truly exists deep down. So far deep down that sometimes even I have a hard time seeing her. I get so used to my mask having to be in place that today for the first time when it was ripped off in view of the world where I couldn't hide, I felt broken and weak. I realized just how fragile I really am, and how much I wish I could truly be the "strong one". But I'm not. Right now if anything else came down the line for me, I think I would shatter.
Whether that's good, bad, or indifferent I have no idea. On one hand it could be good. It means I would have to learn to truly fly. It could be bad because the pieces would never be able to be put back together again. Or it could be indifferent because it may not come to pass at all. What I do know is that what doesn't kill you will make you stronger. How it makes you stronger is up to you. It can make you cynical, and uptight. It can make you hide behind masks. Or it can make you more compassionate, and more loving. It can make you see the world as an oyster to your pearl. That all that sand and dirt and grit and pain will make something beautiful. That God is using that pain to create something amazing and pricelessly one of a kind.
I'm honestly not sure how this will effect me yet. I'm still in the stages of processing my life and what is going on in it. Frankly, it may take days, weeks, or even months to come to the point of choosing how I let this make me stronger. I know I haven't explained why I feel like I'm drowning and for once I'm not going to divulge it. Suffice to say I will surface, and I will be stronger, but you may have to put up with some mildly broken and less than my usual bouncy self posts for a few weeks until things begin to settle again. I pray you will hang in there with me while we ride this storm out. One thing I can promise is that no matter what, I won't let this drown me. But your silent support by reading my blog is more helpful than you know. It reminds me that I'm not alone, and while I may be fighting on the front lines, I have back up waiting in the wings to lend a quiet hand up. So for that my bloggers, Thank You.
For tonight, I'm going to curl up in bed, cuddle with my already asleep hubby, and just rest. Perhaps tomorrow the sun will shine to remind me that even in the rainy fall there is still sunlight peeking through. And if not, well, there's still a cup of coffee and a good book waiting to be discovered. Good night my bloggers. Sleep well and dream in peace.
All my life I've always been the strong one. The one that can survive and thrive no matter how hard life has hit me. No matter the pain, or crushing weight I'm under I've always been the one who can carry the load. Except I didn't just carry it. I carried it and laughed in the face of everything that could try to bring me low. I never cried. I didn't appear to feel pain, and I never let it bring me down. I fought it. And by heaven, I won every time. I've always been strong. I've always been the one to thrive under pressure and excel. I've always been the one to laugh in the face of danger, to make the witty remarks when all hell is breaking loose, and the one to captain the seas that threaten to drown everyone all while having a jolly ol' time. That's always been me. Strong. Fierce. Brave. Reckless. And unafraid of anything. Or so the world believed.
The truth, well that's whole different picture. One no one but a very very very select few have ever seen. Those few have seen the reality of me. That reality is the fact that I'm not strong. Not fierce, or brave, or reckless, or fearless. Yeah, I can be those things, but that's not who I am. I want to run and hide when hell breaks loose, I want to curl in a ball and beg for mercy when the pain sets in. I want to crumble when the load is put on my shoulders. I cry, I feel pain and agony, and I am afraid of all kinds of things. I'm terrified of the world, and I'm scared to death of what may happen in the next few weeks. I'm sensitive, and easily hurt. My heart breaks when I have to tell someone something I know will likely hurt. I'm fragile, and vulnerable. I want to please the world, but know that I will never be enough to please everyone. So, I pull on my mask, and put on my armor, and I keep going. Because there is nothing else I can do. Some days I fight just to breathe, and some days I fight to slow down enough that I can simply be. My brain runs 400 miles an hour nearly every second of every day of every month of every year for as long as I can remember. I can't shut off, and I can't shut down. I'm tired, and weary, and so very very exhausted. The person I allow the world to see is not the one that truly exists deep down. So far deep down that sometimes even I have a hard time seeing her. I get so used to my mask having to be in place that today for the first time when it was ripped off in view of the world where I couldn't hide, I felt broken and weak. I realized just how fragile I really am, and how much I wish I could truly be the "strong one". But I'm not. Right now if anything else came down the line for me, I think I would shatter.
Whether that's good, bad, or indifferent I have no idea. On one hand it could be good. It means I would have to learn to truly fly. It could be bad because the pieces would never be able to be put back together again. Or it could be indifferent because it may not come to pass at all. What I do know is that what doesn't kill you will make you stronger. How it makes you stronger is up to you. It can make you cynical, and uptight. It can make you hide behind masks. Or it can make you more compassionate, and more loving. It can make you see the world as an oyster to your pearl. That all that sand and dirt and grit and pain will make something beautiful. That God is using that pain to create something amazing and pricelessly one of a kind.
I'm honestly not sure how this will effect me yet. I'm still in the stages of processing my life and what is going on in it. Frankly, it may take days, weeks, or even months to come to the point of choosing how I let this make me stronger. I know I haven't explained why I feel like I'm drowning and for once I'm not going to divulge it. Suffice to say I will surface, and I will be stronger, but you may have to put up with some mildly broken and less than my usual bouncy self posts for a few weeks until things begin to settle again. I pray you will hang in there with me while we ride this storm out. One thing I can promise is that no matter what, I won't let this drown me. But your silent support by reading my blog is more helpful than you know. It reminds me that I'm not alone, and while I may be fighting on the front lines, I have back up waiting in the wings to lend a quiet hand up. So for that my bloggers, Thank You.
For tonight, I'm going to curl up in bed, cuddle with my already asleep hubby, and just rest. Perhaps tomorrow the sun will shine to remind me that even in the rainy fall there is still sunlight peeking through. And if not, well, there's still a cup of coffee and a good book waiting to be discovered. Good night my bloggers. Sleep well and dream in peace.
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