When you ask me how I’m doing, and I say, “I’m okay,” don’t listen to my words, because there’s nothing farther from the truth.
The truth is, I probably had a hard time getting out of bed, like I do on most days.
The truth is, even at dinner time, I look like I just woke up. Self-care is my absolute last priority.
The truth is, I’m overwhelmed. Every. Single. Day. I can’t possibly do all the things I’m expected to do and be really, truly happy.
The truth is, I can’t look at myself in the mirror anymore. The glimpse of the aging, graying mess that I catch occasionally, makes me want to cover every reflective surface and walk around with a bag over my head.
The truth is, I fight the inner voices that tell me things will get better because so far, they haven’t and I can’t imagine they ever will.
The truth is, I put on a brave face when I absolutely have to go somewhere, but most of the time, I just make up excuses so that I don’t have to leave my home.
The truth is, I crave companionship so much that I can stay on the phone for hours with anyone that will still pick up the phone. As soon as I hang up, I feel lonely all over again.
The truth is, being in a room with others is awkward and I’m afraid I won’t have anything to say.
The truth is, I cry. And not because I have a genuine reason to. I cry because I’m sad. I cry because I wasted the last 6 years of my life. I cry because my kids deserve better than what I give or can’t give them. I cry because… well, most of the time I have no idea why. It’s just all I can do at that moment.
The truth is, I feel lost and I can’t find my way back.
The truth is, I say I’m okay because it’s easier.
The truth is, I question what type of role model I am for my kids. Do they see me as a fighter or just think this is what they have to look forward to when they are all grown up?
The truth is, I know that so many other people feel exactly what I feel, but I can’t imagine that there is anyone that can really understand what I’m going through.
The truth is, though social media is a highlight reel, it is constantly reminding me of what my life could’ve looked like.
The truth is, this anxiety has taken over and there’s no cure or remedy or hope. I can’t “snap out of it” or “knock it off,” no matter how many people tell me to.
The truth is, I’ve silently accepted that anxiety is a part of me, only to try to convince it to play fairly. Spoiler alert… that doesn’t work either.
The truth is, I end every day by reciting all of the things I believe I can be, the dreams I can achieve and the places I can travel to. By the time I wake up in the morning, I’ve convinced myself that I can’t and will never do any of those things.
The truth is, I’m not okay. I’m not sure if I’ll ever be okay. But when you ask next time, chances are, I’ll just say “I’m okay.”