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Sometimes when you’re down, it’s easy to stay there

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‘Cause you can’t jump the track, we’re like cars on a cable
And life’s like an hourglass, glued to the table
No one can find the rewind button, girl.
So cradle your head in your hands
This is how I’ve felt for the past week or so.  Stuck.  Trapped. Like my time is running too short to get anything and everything completed on time.  I keep asking the Universe for do-overs on things I’ve said, things other people have said, how I’ve reacted to situations, or how I haven’t reacted.  I’ve been asking for answers to questions I’m not even sure I’m asking properly.
I’ve found myself cradling my head in my hands going “Why?  Why me?  Why now?  I was doing so well and now?  This fecking sucks.”
Because it does suck.  
It totally sucks to feel so overwhelmed with everything that you just want to sink so far into whatever piece of furniture you happen to be sitting on that you can no longer be seen.  That there’s so much swirling through your head you feel like you’re just spinning your wheels, incapable of forward motion.  Stuck. 
That you are so overwhelmed with everything that you just want to no longer BE.
And that, friends, is where I’ve been for the past few days.  I’ve been trying not to BE.  
I’ve been stuck in this place inside my head, thinking, caught up in the indecision and wishing my heart didn’t feel so heavy.  Because it’s so heavy I feel like it’s going to fall out of my body.  It’s so heavy the weight of carrying it around hurts.
And breathe… just breathe,
Oh breathe, just breathe
So I just keep breathing. 
There’s a light at each end of this tunnel,
You shout ’cause you’re just as far in as you’ll ever be out
And these mistakes you’ve made, you’ll just make them again
If you only try turning around.
I’m far enough into this battle that I know I won’t feel this way forever.  That this is a string of bad days in a series of really effing awesome good ones.  And truly, the days leading up to this latest fall were awesome.  Some of the best I could’ve imagined having as a mother.
And then? I don’t know what happened.  What was the “then” that changed things for me this week?  Maybe it was realizing that there are deadlines looming at work.  Maybe it was some family news that I’ll tell y’all about later. Maybe it was feeling alone this weekend.  Maybe it was the very awful night of sleep we all had on Sunday.  Maybe it’s just been building for a while now since I’ve been on a string of good days.  My dear ol’ friend ready to kick me in the guts and show me who’s boss.  
Maybe. Maybe. Maybe.
I don’t know.  But I know that I should’ve been prepared somehow.  Or I feel like I should’ve been prepared.  Or maybe this feeling like I should’ve been prepared is me turning in circles trying to get out of this dark, dark tunnel and not remembering which way is the right way out.  Or wondering if either way is the right way out because either way is OUT.  And then I get all stuck in the indecision and fall to inaction, which leaves me feeling all trapped and drowning in my own sorrows.
2 AM and I’m still awake, writing a song
If I get it all down on paper, it’s no longer inside of me,
Threatening the life it belongs to
And I feel like I’m naked in front of the crowd
Cause these words are my diary, screaming out loud
And I know that you’ll use them, however you want to

I freaking hope I’m not awake at 2 AM.  That’s been the case for the past two nights.  For the past two years of nights, it seems.  My child still doesn’t sleep all night long.  I feel like I’m failing him somehow because of that.  And it’s not as if I can MAKE him sleep, you know? But still. I feel like this is my fault. 
And this? This post tonight?  Is a bunch of word vomit.  It’s me trying to get rid of these horrible feelings of awful.  Trying to purge my soul of this unhappiness, of this anxiety.  Of the feeling that my actual stomach is being scratched by claws and squeezed by a Boa constrictor.  
I’m trying to rid myself of the anxiety and anger and fear in my soul.  
The fear that this is yet another downward spiral into the pits of my own personal Hell for a little stay that will make me question whether I’ll feel whole again.  Whether I’ll feel good again.  Or if I will.

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