Sometimes I Am Tired Of Being So Strong

The gentle morning sunlight feels harsh and unforgiving as you bury yourself deeper into the warm comfort of your bedsheets, hoping and praying that you’ll garner the energy to survive the day. You feel the weight of the world beating down on you, breathing down your neck, leaving you doubled over in pain. You feel exhausted simply thinking about the prospect of confronting your trauma, your pain, your lived experience for just one more day.

But you’re far from alone in feeling like you’re muddling through life, summoning courage and strength even as you fear that your heart will shatter and your mind will run over with worry. Because sometimes I too am tired of being so strong.

I’m tired of praying for serenity to return to me. I’m tired of allowing my innermost thoughts to escape my being, roaring through my mind while never once touching my lips. I’m tired of awaiting answers that never seem to arrive, yearning for solutions to the torrent of unresolved calamities that never seem to yield to my desires. I’m tired of losing my faith, feeling my face burn red with tears of anger at a God who never seems to hear my cries for help.

I’m tired of helplessly watching my life unravel before my very eyes. I’m tired of seeing every life plan disintegrate after I’ve tirelessly fought for any semblance of fulfillment, any glimmer of hope that life is worth living. I’m tired of the prolific reminders that now is not forever, that someday the shards of my life will meld together and I’ll rediscover a golden beacon of happiness. I’m tired of listening to empty platitudes, accepting that I’m falling short when I’m trying, trying, trying but never seeming to find the peace I seek.

I’m tired of carrying myself with grace and poise even when I’m seconds away from breaking. I’m tired of tempering the fire within my heart, breathing calmly even when I long to heave and rage and sob until my head burns and my heart aches. I’m tired of smiling through the tears, laughing through the darkness in a convincing ruse, wishing that someone will see the aching soul behind my facade but fearing being discovered. I’m tired of remaining tender and soft, holding myself with an air of gentility but yearning to release the battle within.

If you find yourself exhausted, tired of smiling through the pain, forever remaining courageous in the face of hardship, know that you are wholeheartedly accepted for your desire to cry, to scream, to wonder if life will ever improve. Sometimes I am tired of being so strong. I hope you discover the courage to admit that you are tired of summoning your own strength, too.

Lives for red lipstick, high heels, 80’s pop, cats, and Oxford commas.

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