Have you ever felt trapped and defeated? Have you ever felt sanity slowly slipping away and you had no energy to fight for it, flowing through the motions and giving in to darkness?

 

Sometime in 2015 I wrote…..

I didn’t know it’s this hard to go through a separation. I feel sad for not paying attention to people that went through this pain before me. I have been on sedatives, sleeping through up to four days. I’m desperate to skip this part and wake up when it’s not so hard. My heart is racing all the time. I live in terror.

My friends think I’m superwoman. I left,  got a house,  furnished it,  bought a car and started a new company.  Yet I’m dying on the inside.

I’ve failed at the most important thing in the world.  Even though the world stats show that 50% of all marriages end in divorce,  I come from a culture where probably less than 1 in 10 marriages end in divorce. But this isn’t about people.  It’s about me.

I grew up in church,  watching and completely enthraled by the many happy families.  Even with all the money in the world, raising a happy family was to me, one of life’s greatest achievements. As soon as I could tell what happiness was,  I noticed that certain marriages stood out. Loved women glowed and respected men stood proud. Children from stable families always seemed more balanced and confident. I needed this kind of prosperity.

I had a list of what I wanted in a man that I tore up to work on myself. I prayed and fasted; prepared and went into counselling. I made concessions and compromises; tried to submit as best as I could. I thought we’d be forever and was excited about it. 

But I’m waking up alone, hurt, abused, and desperate in guilt.  

I was alone in the love bubble. I wasn’t enough. I can’t wrap my head around this reality.  

My wordless groans(and lexotanil) put me to sleep at night. Every breath I take is heavy with darkness. Dread is my alarm clock. There’s a constant dull headache I carry around; a continual churning in my belly. 

I might be going crazy. I might just as well. I can’t push back. Can I check myself into a psychiatric hospital? Is what I’m feeling a thing? 

Why does death sound like a wonderful place today? I want to go. I need to rest. 

I feel God played me. 

 

He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds. Psalms 147:3

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