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 — he keeps hurting me over and over again. The memories don’t stay in the past where they belong. They follow me into the present, into the quiet moments, into the night.

I am exhausted.
Not just physically, but emotionally and mentally. The kind of tired that sleep doesn’t fix. The kind that comes from carrying too much for too long with no place to put it down.

I don’t know how long I will feel this way.
But this is my truth right now.
And today, all I can do is admit it: I am not okay.