Not the Woman

I’m not the woman I once was.
That thought keeps gnawing at me.
Chewing at my heart.
Chomping on my self esteem.
Cracking my smiling exterior.

I feel fake.  Faking that former me.
I want to laugh.  I want to say, “Fine!” when everyone asks how I am doing.
I am used to shrugging when people ask me how I do it all.  I have the routine memorized…
Shrug. “You just do.” Smile. “We are very blessed.”
We are very blessed…. that part hasn’t changed. 

Just me. 

I feel like I am clawing my way out.  Nails scraping on the side of the walls.  Refusing to slide down. 

I’ve been unable to do it all myself.  And it sucks. People offer to help… but so often they really don’t know what to do.  I mean… they can’t come and stay up late at night for me.  Take away my mother’s worry.  Replace me at a doctor’s appointment.  Replace my attendance to the twins.  And I don’t want them to do that.

I might have figured out a way to relieve some of the stress.  But, I’ve had to ask for help.  And it sucks.

Not only that – but I’ve had to be very frank about Alexander’s medical needs.  Our familial needs.  When you list them out… WOW – reality check.

I hate to list that list.  Because that list is depression.  That list is pessimism.  That list is darkness. 
And right now – that list is our best chance.  At hope.  At optimism. At light. 

So… I’ve jumped into the well – feet first.  I had to jump.  To save myself.  I had to jump into that dark place.  And … now – I’m clawing out.  Hope by bit of hope.  Until that sunlight shines on my face again.  And I can be that girl I’m pretending to be.

The one who smiles and says, “No worries.”  “We’re amazing.”

Because the truth is – most of the time – we are amazing.  The rest of the time, I don’t dwell on it. 

It’s just that stupid list.  That list of all the things that are not “perfect.” … or even close. 

*Sigh* …