Broken

Just tell me it will get better.

I just can't seem to be okay. No matter how hard I try.

I want to be better.

I'm sure that life isn't supposed to be like this. I refuse to accept that this is normal. It is not okay to feel like this.

I never had to try this hard to stay happy. To be all right.

I am angry, all of the time. I am frustrated, and unreasonable, and horrible. Or I am tired, apathetic, and disinterested. I don't know how to stop.

What do I do? How do I change?

I look at the shambles around me, and tell myself, "If I just clean the house, things will be better." Or "If I could just have some time to myself......... If I could just go get a haircut.......If I could just get a massage.....If I could just lose some weight......If I could just get the chance to go for a swim......... If I could just not be me."

I am angry at everyone around me. Because I feel like if they knew, if they really understood, they would try harder, they would be kinder. They would fix it.

But I know it's not like that.

They don't know, because I hide. I am so good at making everything okay on the outside. So superficial.

My floors are clean, and my dishes are done. But my cupboards are stuffed so full with junk and crap and disorganisation, you can't even open them without spilling out all the mess.

I don't ask for help. Because I'm scared of what people will think. And I'm scared that they will get tired of me. I don't want to be anyone's burden. Besides, what are they going to do? I don't even know how anyone could help me. Maybe if they came into my life and took over every single responsibility that I had. And just let me sleep, for a very, very long time.

But that's not an option. And deep down, I know it probably wouldn't help anyway.

I know it's not their fault. Until I felt like this, I didn't know what it was like. I know that many people I've known, and know, have felt it too.

You just have to keep on going. One foot in front of the other. One moment at a time.

I try keeping myself busy. So busy cleaning, doing, so that I can't stop to think about this. Or I try to go out. Spend time with people so that I am distracted from myself. I try to let myself rest. Ignore the housework, read a book. I try to pray, try to worship and pour out all my troubles to God.

But it doesn't work. I just get more highly strung. More tense. I compare myself unfavorably all the time. The house gets dirtier. My insincere worship hits the ceiling and falls back to the ground with a thud.

Just not good enough.

It's no good telling myself that it could be worse. I know that there are people suffering through far worse than I've even imagined. But that doesn't change how I feel.

I hate looking in the mirror and not being able to see anything that I like.

I know. I have value. I know I was fearfully and wonderfully made. I know that the creator of the universe loves me, and cares for me. I know I am so blessed to have so many wonderful people around me who love me and care for me. I know. I know. I know.

But knowing something, and believing it are two vastly different things.
 
How do you stop this?

I feel broken. Unable to be fixed. Of no use. Ineffectual. Not working. Defective.

I wish I could stop writing this rubbish. I'm sick of moaning and whining. All this introspective garbage. But I can't seem to write anything else. And I have to get this out somehow. But I am (mostly) okay. Really. I'm not going to go out and end it all or anything like that. My people need me.

But I just want to do this better. There has to be a better way to live.

Life can't stay this way forever.

Can it?