Guided Emotional Support Journals, you deserve to feel great about yourself!

“I’m struggling” – text to a friend

I'm not okay. I'm struggling.

This is a text I sent a friend on May 10. I asked him first if it was okay for me to vent and he said, “of course.”

I typed it in my notes and then pasted it into a text message. I came across it in my notes the other day and was reminded that I’ve been deep in a long patch of really struggling for quite a while. This text was sent after many months of crisis and chaos – some of it my own doing.

I’m sharing this here because I’m really feeling a deep call to get back to writing about the messiness, pain, weirdness, and beauty of life. And acknowledging the hard stuff is part of it.

So here’s where I was two months ago today:

“I’m really not doing well. I’ve been trying to work (now, today, in general) and I just can’t function. I am struggling with the most basic things. I just cry all the time. For weeks. Just when I start to get it together something happens and I fall back again. I had to pull into a Publix parking lot on the way to pick up my dog from N because I fell apart for the millionth time.  I feel like such a failure – at building a career, making money, motherhood, relationships, being ok, life in general.   

And then I don’t know how to separate myself from my daughter’s stuff and it all just feels really overwhelming and crushing. 

I haven’t been sleeping well and I’ve been physically sick.  I’m so emotionally exhausted and overloaded and have been for so long. 

I have erased and retyped some variation of this about 10 times. I feel really shitty dumping this out on you, but I think you already know and I’m hoping saying it will help me start moving forward? I don’t know.  I kind of feel like someone in my life should know I am not ok? Because I’m kind of freaking myself out. 

I really hate people worrying about me and I feel like you don’t and can handle this ramble.  

In summary, I am not ok. I’m struggling. I am working on being ok (therapy, inquiring about meds), but right now is pretty rough.”

End of confessional.” 

Even though I’d told him I didn’t expect him to have any answers, he still responded with something about this just being a hard chapter and that it would be okay eventually if I chose to be okay.

Two weeks after I sent that text, life as I knew it blew up. It was one of those line-drawn-in-the-sand moments that separate life into before this thing happened and after.

And my mental and emotional space got a whole lot worse as a result.

I’m clawing my way back out, with the help of therapy, Wellbutrin, journaling, some friends who stepped in when I thought I had no one left, lots of reflection, and forcing myself to sit in the pain instead of hiding from it.

If my words resonate with you, hi. You aren’t alone. If they don’t resonate with you, GOOD! I’m genuinely glad. But either way, come along with me as I work through some heavy shit on my journey to figure out what I want my life to look like.

If you’re struggling, reach out to the Crisis Text Line 24/7 free. Just text HOME to 741741.

Do me a favor? Please share this post. I’ve been out of the blogging game for a while and would love to get more eyes on my rambling.

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