broken

I have so many unposted drafts on this blog. It actually makes me laugh to see them. To see the many, many times I tried to get out the feelings inside only to find myself lacking the words. I think people think 2020 was the worst year, and in so many ways it was awful. It plunged us into a deep, complicated political and medical abyss that lingers today, many months after it began. But 2020 was actually okay for us. We cocooned ourselves inside our house. We traveled, but we stayed away from people while still staying closely linked. As a family we grew tighter. And I loved it. 

I homeschooled the kids and loved being with them. I'd watch the lights go on as they learned new things and excel at different subjects. We learned so much together. It was a joy in my life. 

Until it wasn't. 

Something radically changed during the final month of homeschool; the kids were more irritable, less teachable. I was stretched in a million directions. It wasn't fun anymore. And then I snapped. On what was not supposed to be our last day of school but ended up being our last day of school, I asked the kids to write a little bit about what they liked and disliked about the year. I guess in my mind I had built up our year so much that I didn't think I would see much criticism, and I was honestly so stretched that I didn't even realize how fragile I was before I read the dumb essays. 

The criticism broke me. I'm embarrassed to admit it, but it did. Of course there are a number of other factors that played into the complete self-implosion that happened that day, but that was the trigger. I lost my ever loving mind on the kids and canceled school. It was over. I was over. I needed space, but I could not get space. Stopping school did not mean I'd be alone. In fact, it meant now the kids would just blankly stare at me daily because they wanted to know the plans for every day of "summer." I felt suffocated and sick all the time. My mind was reeling, and yet, I could not be alone because I still had all these little people looking to me to be okay. 

I have felt broken since May. I lost so much confidence that day. I can't even explain it. I've talked to Tim, my friends, my new therapist, my family, etc., and I can't really explain why I broke that day. I just felt out of control and have felt that way ever since. I don't blow up like I did that day, but I just feel an emptiness that I can't fill. And I hurt so much. Sometimes I turn the shower water so hot that it burns my skin just enough to make me feel something because I don't feel anything. What a strange thing. And writing it out just makes me feel more ashamed that I am still here--in this place--all these months later, but I am. I am still here. 

I don't really know how to put myself together. I keep pretending, but that is becoming tiresome. I am just aching to break free from this thick fog and fly away for a bit, but I know I cannot fly far. It's all so overwhelming, and tonight I feel the pain a little more intensely, so I thought perhaps I should write and let the tears fall where they will and maybe I can just be honest with people and myself for a minute and say, I am not well. I am see through. I need space to breathe. 

I wonder how many other people feel like this from time to time but don't say anything. Well, here I am saying something. I am as real as I have always been. And life is freaking hard right now. I am alive, but I am not really living. And I just want this chapter to end. It needs to end.