Bipolar Life- The Journey # (I have no clue)

(It is #77)

What the hell am I doing?

I rarely cuss. I hate it, to be honest. If it leaves my mouth, my patience is fried. I may be there today.

I watched a movie early this morning. A sappy love film.

“How long have you been married? Do you really even know who you are anymore?”

I backed it up 10 seconds and listened again…and again..and again.

No, I do not know who I am anymore. And it pisses me off.

A lost person walking this earth, who loves its beauty but feels no place, that’s who I am. The mystery in my identity is no longer amusing. It’s isn’t about an empty nest; my nest has yet to empty, doll! It isn’t about what do I want to do when I grow up. I am faced with a longing to be worth more than remedies and rallies. In motherhood, that’s all I’ve done for years. Every other part of me is gone because those elements took it all.

I have nothing more in me to wait for others to fix themselves. I’ve spent my life watching kids grow and find their place. Simultaneously, my purpose and vision escaped and never returned. I feel trapped. Gradually, I stopped trying to flee my cell. I accepted my fate.

Why did I believe their missteps were my consequence?

More importantly, how do I move forward now?

Fight Your Way Back

I sit here in bed, wondering if I am capable of recovery. Some recover through addiction (my kids). I am here to recover from them. Do they know? Are they aware they killed a part of me? I am not sure they know. My mental health has not mattered as they stumbled time and again in theirs.

If one small piece of me doesn’t matter, then none of me does. A truth I fear confronting, and pain I feel to my core. My challenge is to remove the desire to be loved by them the way I love and to love myself. I must turn to my reflection and believe in my worth.

I rarely go there.

Who am I to assess anything? I’m a hard soul who believes in self-sacrifice, optimism, hope, work, dedication, loyalty, and memory loss!

I play the ‘forget game’ to move on. Forget what they did, forget what they said, forget the pain, forget the abuse, forget the porn, forget the drinking. I work so hard to forget, I never allow myself to heal. The barrel of lies is so deep, I can’t reach the bottom. There, lying dormant is the substantial truth that if I forget, I’ll be okay.

I’m not okay.

I think I will stop here and unpack and own that truth.

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