Difficult

Today was one of the more difficult days, though they seem to blur as to which one could be labeled the worst. I note this day because I realized for the first time ever that I could barely get out of bed. When I woke up, I dreaded life and was instantly crippled. I looked around the room and there was nothing to live for. I’d felt this feeling before, but lately my feelings of despair seem to be compiling into something larger.

I am trying to understand; I am trying to write out my feelings; I am trying to find answers as to what went wrong.

And each night I see that the day has passed; and when I wake up, the weight seems heavier. Today the weight was as heavy as it’s ever been, even though the storm was over.

Here’s the before and after effect of the rain in Santa Rosa.

Rail 1

Rail 2

It was a lot of rain and curiously, I was happier when it was coming down. I was content with the dark clouds looming and the sound of the water pelting the roof of the shack that I live in. This is what my disability has done to me.

What is a person supposed to do when they become disabled? Me, I worked diligently through college, having to sustain loan burdens and work odd jobs as I went, all the while enduring intense amounts of pain. After graduation the terror began when I realized how difficult getting a job was going to be. Think a family member could put me up while I search? Nothing doing there. (I haven’t dealt with or see or know that much about the family from when I was a child, so I essentially don’t have family, which is fine…I think.) I have to endure the streets and collect welfare while I wait for employers to decide whether or not they want to hire me. And I keep trying because I’m a survivor.

Nevertheless, it took seven years to get through school, and I was struggling hard before that; which is to say that, psychologically speaking, I’m getting worn out trying to make my life better. Due to a number of other factors, I learned through some temporary clinical work that I’m undoubtedly suffering from forms of PTSD, which doesn’t make me feel very good about the adoptive people who raised me.

I wish there was someone I could trust.

I wish I had a family.

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6 thoughts on “Difficult

  1. You could always talk to me, I’m always available.. I’m kind of going through the same situation. It’s hard, I know. But our stories could make someone else stronger. Hold on to that. You could always be a hero.

    Like

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