I changed when my Mom died. I became more compassionate, more empathetic, and it really made me realize that life is so short. I changed even more when my Dad died. When my Dad died the reality of not having my parents anymore hit me hard. Real hard. It’s almost been a year since I got the phone call, and I’ve become painfully aware of two things.
First, I’ve lived with anxiety and even depression for quite some time.
Secondly, this is my fight. I know there are people that love and care for me, but at the end of the day my torch is not theirs to carry.
At the end of the day I can’t drink away my pain. I guess I could, but I don’t want to. I can’t bury myself in karate, work, CrossFit, friendships, relationships, and just escaping to have a good time. I’m a fan of all of the above. I LOVE being around people. I love being around people so much that I have neglected taking care of myself on the inside, and allowing myself to process what has happened the past five years.
I know I’m strong, but I can’t be strong right now. I can’t be strong right now because it’s become too heavy. I can’t be strong because I’ve held it all in for far too long.
I’ve preoccupied myself with so many other things, and I believe that right now God is saying “It’s time.” It’s time to be weak. It’s time to ask for help. It’s time to stop holding it all in, and to let it all out. Even if that means I have to cry every day. Even if it means I have to celebrate the small things every day.
I’m not crazy. I’m not too much. I’m not lazy. I’m hurting and I’m grieving. I lost both of my parents within five years, and that is something that I will never get over. If you want to be in my life, you need to realize that I still cry over the passing of my best friend in the entire world, my mother. And that makes me human. You need to understand that I miss my Dad, his sense of humor, and his unfailing belief in me. I miss both of them so much, sometimes I feel lost without them, and sometimes the pain is so real; so just let me have my breakdown. I promise it won’t last forever, I will pick myself up like my parents taught me to do, and I will be fine.
I know things are going to be ok, but it doesn’t change the fact that sometimes I feel like they are not. My anxious side is waiting for the worst thing to happen, it’s waiting for you to tell me that you’re leaving, and for you to tell me I’m just too much.
Please know that I am not too much. I am fighting through what feels like the fight of my life. Please be patient with me, and know that I really am trying.
Right now I’m wading in the trenches of the valley so that one day I can be sprint on the mountaintops.