I feel like I want to give up sometimes. It’s a feeling like being so ridiculously tired that all I can manage to do is sit. The more responsibility I take on, the less I have left by the end of the day. I’m just complaining. It’s justified, but I solve nothing by whining.
I know things are going to get better, because I have hope. It’s eternal in me, and I endeavor to believe. I’m not always certain, as any human might have moments where core beliefs are questioned. I don’t loose sight of who I am, but I can’t help but wonder sometimes if what I’m doing is right. But what is right? It’s clearly not what feels good on first glance. Life is a series of tests of varying difficulty, all one can do is prove worthy of the challenge. I’m prideful, and I don’t surrender unless soundly defeated. I have given up at times. I hope I don’t have to again.
I’m not unhappy in my heart. I have a relationship I’m proud of, and one that makes me feel safe and stable. Things have been strong in that department. We need consistency, and we don’t have lives that promote that right now. Things are in flux. We can’t seem to just lock in to a routine and go. I want to establish my own pattern. I need to, in order to stay sane and healthy.
Eventually the climate will change, or some oppressive factor will go away. Something. There’s no point in trying to fathom the outcomes.
I know what I need to do. I will endeavor to not dwell on the things that have been swirling around causing me stress. It’s hard, and sometimes I panic so much I can feel it boiling my blood, crushing my chest as it attempts to snuff me into oblivion. I do everything I can, and sometimes I lose, but I never lose hope.