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Broken soul

I feel like a broken soul. Too damaged to be fixed. Too lost for hope to find its way back to.

Another night alone with too much alcohol. The only presence capable to dull this enormous pain.

I want to be done, but I can’t be. I want to cry, but I can’t. If I cried, if I broke, I would never stop. I might never be okay again. The dam would surely burst beyond repair.

I’m a broken soul held together with scotch tape, and the world thinks I’m fabulously put together.

Let me tell you, I’m far from that

I am broken. I am hurt, I’m sad and I’m so, so afraid. Afraid of life, afraid of death, afraid of pain…. Shit, afraid of happiness. I have no idea what happiness is, but it terrifies me.

Tonight, I feel everything. I feel way too much, and numbness all at once. Tonight, alcohol is here for me when I can’t express my pain otherwise.

I should be better at this. I can recognize my feelings, I know where my pain comes from. I can do that.

But I don’t want to.

I want to distract myself. Alcohol welcomes that. Shit. I know I’m not okay. I know how hard I will try to be…but at the end of the day…

I’m just another fucked up soul. Too broken to be mended. That’s how I feel. I’m too deeply broken, too deeply hurt.

I am sad, I am anxious, and I am hurting. I don’t know how else to say it.

Alcohol and I have a long (and fucked up) history. I’ve been trying to rid myself of its well known evils…. but nights like this?

Well, it turns the scotch tape into duct tape. Slightly stronger, a bit more visible, but very short acting.

Shit. I have no idea where this metaphor came from, but I’m rolling with it. (Get it? Rolling? Like a tape roll? Okay I’m done now 😂 )

Tonight ends with me sitting in my bathroom alone with my drink while my husband “waits” for me. Usually he’s asleep, but tonight I hear him. He’s trying to “prove” that he loves me.

It was a rough night. Really, it’s morning now. It’s morning and I’ve yet to sleep. The pain overrides the need for….needs.

I am broken, but I can be taped. Maybe glued, maybe stitched.

Broken things can heal….

If only we find the right fix.

I pray I find my “fix” soon…and not just the temporary tape.

I am hurting, so…so deeply. I don’t have to worlds to describe it.

But I’d really like to feel better. So for now, I’ll take the “tape”. (Or is that just an excuse to drink?)

Time will tell. But the desire is real. The effort is real. I’ll show up, I’ll work, I’ll fight.

I won’t give up. Not yet.

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