The sun sets on another blah day, and I can tell I’m going to be in for a rough night.
When the darkness creeps up on you, building and building and building just all day long…you can try to fight it…but sometimes, it’s out of your hands.
My husband came home with a migraine, indicating I’d be spending the night alone, in the dark, or in the bathroom while he sleeps it off in bed. Not the best vibes for being mildly to moderately…ya know. Not wanting to live anymore and stuff.
2 of my kids will more likely than not require hospitalization once again for their shitty failing lungs. And the 3rd child we just found out will be getting surgery in a couple of weeks to close up multiple hernias. (At least he isn’t actively currently dying).
Everything seems like it’s going wrong again…in some oddly Deja vu kinds of ways. It’s too much. It’s too heavy for one person to bear.
Idk. That’s it. That’s the post. I’m struggling. I’m not feeling sore supported, and I’m so, so fucking sick of leaning on people. It’s only a matter of time before they hate me for bothering them.
Maybe the morning will catch me with a heartbeat. Maybe not. I’m fighting, but I’m just starting to wonder why. What is it exactly that I’m fighting so hard for?