Darkness Doesn’t Have to Win

I give people as many chances as the trillions of dollars we’re in debt as a country, and it’s always increasing just the same.

No matter how hard we try to set safe boundaries and request a slight amount of respect, it doesn’t always happen.

Sometimes that means you’d lose nearly everyone, and the thought of that is just as terrifying as asking them to help you with your needs.

It’s stressful and lonely trying to go it while respecting everyone else’s wishes and wants and letting yours sit to the side, in the corner, collecting dust.

The heartbreak is real. Always feeling inadequate is real. They’re real feelings and so often we just ignore them. We do nothing, and we sit alone in the dark waiting for just a glimmer of light to come along and rescue us.

We know God is there, whether we feel it or not, but some days we can’t help but feel abandoned. Like the hurt will never go away, and the work we put into ourselves is never enough.

I’ve had someone very close to us sit on my couch, in my home, and tell me I need to do more for Brett and our family as a whole. That I was slacking and things would be better if I picked it up.

No amount of EMDR has helped that, because it went straight to my heart and broke it in two. This happened nearly a year ago, and I’ve yet to come back from it. They say we don’t always remember the words, but we remember how that person made us feel. Me? I remember the words clear as day, because it tore me in two to think someone could tell me how badly I was failing.

I remember a girl in 6th grade who pointed at my jeans that didn’t fit perfectly and told me my zipper made it look like I had a penis. I went home and I tossed every pair of jeans I had.

I remember kids coming over and witnessing things I prayed no one would ever see, and then telling the whole school. So, I stopped letting people come over. I stopped having friends and letting people get close.

Then I made the choice to get married and have kids, and I have adults who still do the same thing to me. I’m not a terrible person, really. I try so hard to amount to something more than I was told I could be, and nearly every day I have someone remind me what more I could be doing for my kids, my marriage, my home, for everyone else but myself.

It’s thoroughly exhausting.

The point of this blog is not for pity, I don’t ever request anyone to pity me. I do, however, know that there are other people who feel this way, too. I know I’m not alone, and if I can be that light for someone else, you better be damn sure I’m right there. I’ll sit with you until the pain dulls, until you can take a deep breath, until you can dry the tears and stand back up. I can make the time, because no one should go this life alone.

This is also for the people who need a reminder, that your words? They matter. Choose them carefully. React to someone’s pain with kindness, even if you can’t see it. Maybe you’re hurting and it’s easier to make others feel that way instead of talking to someone about it. This isn’t asking people to not have opinions, or wants and needs for themselves, it is asking for kindness. The easiest thing we have to give to others.

People struggle in silence everyday. We choose to believe no one else would understand. We convince ourselves that we aren’t worth saving, that we have to let our lives be this way.

You don’t.

We don’t.

You can choose to be better.

Kindness and respect can go a very long way, and the best part? It costs absolutely nothing.

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