I am not okay
I don’t know how long I’m going to feel this way. There’s a heaviness in my chest that doesn’t leave, no matter how busy I keep myself or how strong I try to be. I feel helpless. I feel hopeless. And I’m so, so tired. I cannot understand how the person who was supposed to stand beside me chose cocaine and methamphetamine while I worked myself to exhaustion just to keep our lives together. While I took on two jobs. While I showed up every day for our daughters. How could he choose that life while I fought so hard for ours? He’s inside rehab now, getting the help he needs. He’s being cared for, supported, guided. And here I am — outside — struggling to survive, to provide, to be both mother and father to two little girls who need me to be strong even when I feel like I’m breaking. There are days when I feel like I have no one to talk to, no place to set down the weight I’m carrying. Now that he’s almost out of rehab, the nightmares are returning. In my sleep, in my thoughts, in my fears ...