A woman’s misery at it’s best

There’s no morning, no afternoon, no evening. I’m just breathing, my head dug in the pillows every day.

Days joining, they’ll all be the same; they have no names. Dishes pile in the sink, on the bench. One day, two days, three days, still piling waiting for me, but I’m not living; I’m just breathing.

And every time I try to get up and out of the bed to clean the house, I fall back in the bed. I have no energy left. I’m running on empty.

Night falls today, tomorrow, and so on, but I don’t see and don’t feel any changes with the days. I’m living under a dark cloud. I can’t see out, and I can’t see within.

Days become long, nights become endless, and life becomes an ongoing battle. There’s no winner, there’s no loser, and there’s no end.

Every day and every moment is the present. There’s no today, not yesterday, no tomorrow. A repeated pattern of emotional, mental, and physical havoc makes up my world.

Children have needs; they need to eat; they need clean clothes; they need clean beds and clean rooms. Interaction to be human like normal humans do, a part of children’s growth stolen from them.

But I’m crippled with depression. I’m helpless and hopeless. I’m falling on myself for help, and I couldn’t catch myself.

I can’t help myself. I can’t help the situation. Every day, I hope tomorrow will be better, and every day it only gets worse. What is a mother to do?

I lost myself, lost my dignity, lost my pride; my home, which was once the center of our world, vanished in a blink of an eye.

All that is left of me now is a woman lost within herself. A woman who doesn’t recognize herself in the mirror.

I became a hostage within my soul. I’m the enemy of myself.

No hand extended to pull me out of this misery. My life is hanging from a thin thread of medications changing every time they give up on me.

While I’m sitting here waiting for mercy from heaven, I tell myself there will be better days ahead.

The journey may be long and odorous, but a good captain never gives up.

I’m shattered into a million pieces. God, help me put myself back together. Children need a sound mother to sail through the rough waves to see them to the shores safe.

Family times, a distant memory. Family dinners are getting less and less.

My world falls apart in-front of my eyes. All I could do, is to look on, watch myself unravel, my life crumble.

 My heart bounding for the imprisonment of my soul to end. I’m desperate for a rescuer to cut me free of the chains, locking my soul up to my head.

 Sunlight blinding my eyes, and the darkness of hollowness squeeze me out of sanity. My life lost in the unknown’s storm. The way to the healing rock of strength covered with thorns.

 The rose garden, once thriving full of life and fragrant of freedom, has dried to the ground disintegrated into the earth. The waterfall that once gushes down sparkling, the water of life like a diamond with its harmonious melody that heals a burdened soul, now dried up. Its beautiful stones and rocks cracked with the heat of misery and confusion.

 My soul yearning for mercy, peace, and joy.

My heart aching for comfort.

But a mother burdened with insanity at no choice and no fault of her own must carry on. Must owe up to her roles. She must make a hero from the broken pieces of her being to see her family through.

 To avoid failing in her duties is to crawl to the finish line.

To be free from betraying the family she has spent her life built is to cry in the corner alone, to shed tears on her pillow at night, and praying God will give her the strength to go on.

 I cried not only for the pain of living with depression, but for the loss of my dignity as a mother. I cried for my children. They have lost a mother, the one thing that holds them together in one piece, to grow, to thrive and to come out the side successful, well and strong to face life challenges ahead of them. 

For me, I hold my head up when I can, sometimes my head is stone dead. Sometimes I wish I don’t exist anymore, to spare the people I love the discomfort of my existence. 

My heart is heavy, my soul is empty. The river of tears never run dry. The hopes, lingering around, sometimes near, sometimes unreachable, sometimes, the goblet once full of hope empty.

But whatever struggles, pain and suffering. A mother must always be there to calm the storm. A mother is a strong pillar of the family that holds them all in one place in one piece. 

A mother will crawl on her knees to complete her mission. She will find a way of her pain to see her children through.

A mother will remain a mother, even in the howling tornados pushing her back with no mercy for her broken soul and empty shell of her being.

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