I hate being so miserable. This entire situation has upended my life, but I try to push on as if my husband hasn't just stabbed me through the heart and stripped me of everything and everyone that I love.
This constant facade of "I'm okay, I'm not dying, I'm in control" is more taxing than anything I've struggled with before. It's taking its toll.
In addition to pregnancy making it all but impossible to sleep, when I DO sleep, I'm woken up by anxiety. And that anxiety gives way to anger, because I'm frustrated that John can sleep soundly, completely unaware of how much his thoughtless, callous actions have destroyed my will to breathe.
God help me. I am too broken to go forward. Everything hurts. Everything.
Oh, but you give me a kick forward through Nate's gymnastics within me, don't You? And there is Vince, coaxing unabated joy from my heart with his smile. But how am I deserving of these blessings? How is it possible that their light - YOUR light - still reaches into this cavern I've been unwittingly thrust into?
Love. Love, Lord. I understand that, and I feel that. Even in this bitterness, you make known Your Sweetness.
But then I collapse into myself because that sweetness does not make sense to me. Such joy does not belong in a place so desolate and void of compassion. Forgive me, Lord, but I turn away from You because You shouldn't be here with me. You should be draped in finery, not the filth of broken vows.
And even though on a logical level I understand that this is not my doing, I can't help but feel that it is. So I turn away. I turn away to console myself with shame and self-rejection, as if such things could ever rectify the injustice wrought upon me. Somehow, it feels right. It doesn't feel good, but it does feel right.
This constant facade of "I'm okay, I'm not dying, I'm in control" is more taxing than anything I've struggled with before. It's taking its toll.
In addition to pregnancy making it all but impossible to sleep, when I DO sleep, I'm woken up by anxiety. And that anxiety gives way to anger, because I'm frustrated that John can sleep soundly, completely unaware of how much his thoughtless, callous actions have destroyed my will to breathe.
God help me. I am too broken to go forward. Everything hurts. Everything.
Oh, but you give me a kick forward through Nate's gymnastics within me, don't You? And there is Vince, coaxing unabated joy from my heart with his smile. But how am I deserving of these blessings? How is it possible that their light - YOUR light - still reaches into this cavern I've been unwittingly thrust into?
Love. Love, Lord. I understand that, and I feel that. Even in this bitterness, you make known Your Sweetness.
But then I collapse into myself because that sweetness does not make sense to me. Such joy does not belong in a place so desolate and void of compassion. Forgive me, Lord, but I turn away from You because You shouldn't be here with me. You should be draped in finery, not the filth of broken vows.
And even though on a logical level I understand that this is not my doing, I can't help but feel that it is. So I turn away. I turn away to console myself with shame and self-rejection, as if such things could ever rectify the injustice wrought upon me. Somehow, it feels right. It doesn't feel good, but it does feel right.
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