If you had asked me today how I am doing, I would have told you I am fine. I am good. Life is great. I might have told you the good news about a wedding I booked for next month, or how excited the kids are about the possibility of more snow this week. I probably would have offered you some homemade peppermint bark and told you about the cute paper snowflake presents my kids surprised me with this morning.
And it would all be true. Mostly. Because I am fine and life is good, except when it’s not. But I don’t know how to tell anyone when it’s not.
Right now, I am not okay. Today, I was not okay. This past week, I was anything but okay.
If I was being honest, I would have to tell you that I am heart broken. I haven’t slept in over a week now. I am finding it difficult to eat. My heart hurts and when the kids aren’t looking, I can’t stop the tears. I feel overwhelmed. I feel betrayed. I feel confused. I feel alone.
But if you ask, I will tell you that I am fine because I don’t know how to say these things. I won’t tell you these things because I don’t want them to be true. I am courageous. I am positive. I am living with faith and hope. I am a glass half full kind of girl, always have been. I can’t tell you that I haven’t been able to figure out up from down this week because that is not who I am.
I can’t tell you what I’ve lost because that would be ungrateful. I am not someone to complain. I don’t want to burden anyone with my worries, my fears, my failures. And it’s not that big of a deal anyway. This too shall pass. It will all work itself out in the end. At least, this is what I tell myself.
So, I do what I’ve been doing for so long now. I keep a good home. I take care of my kids. I go to Christmas parties, church activities and playgroups, I lend a helping hand, and I keep busy. I’ve never been comfortable with being the victim or the storyteller, but when I do talk to a friend I tell a little bit, I admit some things, but I’m quick to point out the stars in the darkness. I’m quick to remind everyone that it will all be okay.
I don’t know what else to do. I can’t put words to this grief. I can’t tell you what it’s like to feel so alone, so misunderstood. I can’t explain the short circuit between heart and mind right now. I don’t want you to know how fragile everything feels, or how quick I am to fall apart, to cry out that this is not the life I wanted.
When I sat down to write this I intended to write the truth. I wanted to tell someone all the things I can’t tell anyone. I thought if I could put them here, list them out and send them on their way, that it might help. Bounce back, I keep telling myself.
But now that I’m here, I don’t think I can tell you everything or anything really. I don’t think it would help. People will offer to listen. They will ask me what they can do, how they can help. And that’s the tricky part – they can’t, not really.
Right now, it’s enough just to be able to say that I’m not okay. I just wanted someone to know.