And I have to say the words I fear the most: “I just don’t know.”


And the pain falls like a curtain, on the things I once called certain
And I have to say the words I fear the most, I just don’t know

And the questions without answers, come and paralyze the dancer
So I stand here on the stage, afraid to move, afraid to fall..
– Stephen Curtis Chapman


I am scared.
There is a lot I don’t know right now. My entire LIFE is up in the air. Everything is falling apart. I am spiraling. Spiraling out of control. My lack of being able to function normally has cost me friendships. Has cost me tears and spoons and has laid pain on me. Everything is spiraling.

My depression is the bleakest, and darkest it has been in years. Literally years. I feel trapped. Caught. Torn between everyone I love. I’ve had to throw my hands in the air and say I CANNOT DO IT. Which is one of the fucking hardest things I’ve ever done. I very much have the loyal personality. The one who wants to fix things. The one who wants to make everything right. To have to say I CANNOT DO IT is taking everything out of me.

I don’t like admitting I am weak.
I don’t like admitting that I cannot do it.

I am stubborn. Horribly so. I am loyal to a fault and it has bit me in the ass. So to be torn between two groups of people, to have to admit that I cannot function and I literally cannot deal… it’s killing me. And I wish people understood.

Depression is so fucking bleak. I take pills – I take three different little pills to try and lift me out of this funk. But yet I am still drowning. My anxiety  still overwhelms me. My depression still crushes me. A couple weeks ago, I relapsed into self injury for the first time in years. I am struggling to eat right.  To sleep right. Everything is all turned around and topsy-turvy.

I hurt. physically. emotionally.

I am watching everything I love and care about fall apart…

And here I sit, scared to click publish.

Scared to be vulnerable.

When I know there are others hurting, too.

When I know my words aren’t just falling on ears that aren’t listening.

When I know people read this and care  – and hell, can relate.

That by publishing things, someone may feel less alone – even if that someone isn’t me.

I am broken.

And now, I hit publish.

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