Nights are so hard.
I don’t know what it is. There is something about the end of my days that leaves me so…empty. Wanting.
Right now, I am feeling so full of emotion. So full I need to dump it all out, or I risk exploding.
I do have hope that this is something that I will be able to do–I am hopeful that, with the right support, I will finally be able to just release all of the pain and tears and, after years and years, just let it out. Finally free myself of all that I have been keeping locked up and shoved deep inside.
The thought of letting go of everything–of having some sort of emotional release–has been two sided. On the one hand, I want to do it more than anything. I know that I need to do it. I know that the weight of all I am carrying is slowly making me drown, and I could let it all out and finally take a deep breath.
But…it is also so terrifying. So unknown. So…uncontrolled.
I am scared.
I am scared of finding the center and not knowing what might be there.
I am scared that letting it out won’t make a difference. That it will simply find its way back in again, and pull me under.
I am scared of being overwhelmed–of simply not being able to emotionally handle what might be under there.
I am scared of being too needy. Too reliant. Too hard to love.
I am scared.
Moreover, I am concerned about support. I have a fan-freaking-tastic therapist. I know she will do whatever she can to support me through this. In her office, I am safe. I totally trust her. I am more me than I probably ever am. More at ease, even when she makes me spit out the words I never want to say. More honest and real. She knows who I am.
But, what happens when I leave her office?
Those are the moments I fear. The ones where I am, even tonight, trying to figure out how to cope without her constant support.
At home, especially after I tuck my kids into their beds and kiss their sweet heads goodnight, I feel utterly, utterly alone.
All those thoughts I don’t want to think come washing over me. All the darkness enters.
I am left, by myself, trying to figure out how to stay afloat.
But…I’m not sure how. Yes, I try to stay busy. I read. I clean. I watch TV. I call people. …but the hole of loneliness just gets bigger and bigger, and I don’t know how stitch it closed.
Again, I find myself asking–Why can’t I have someone who supports me, so fully, in my “real” life?
I don’t have the answer. I don’t know what to think. The ache and the resistance are here. But, so is the ever strengthening need to heal.
I just hope I am strong enough.