Hidden tears

Depression 2 Minutes

I try not to make every post about my bad days. Who wants to read about sadness all of the time? The last several days, I haven’t been myself. Even though I’ve had the pleasure of laughing with my husband, my daughter, even some crazy things on Facebook. Yet, I am still a medium shade of blue.

Since last Sunday, it hurt to lay my head on a soft pillow. It literally feels like all of the nerves in my head have rested against my skull making every step unbearable, every sound amplified, every thought confusing. My anxiety is triggered by every thought. Every thought. I don’t want to think. I don’t want to talk. As bad as it hurts, existing is questionable. But I P.U.S.H. on.

I can’t look at anything on Netflix without tears. I can’t play soft jazz on Spotify without tears. I can’t do anything without my eyes flowing like a broken faucet. If I could invest in the number of times I have cried in the shower, I would never have to worry about finances ever again. Those hidden tears feel like a relief at times. Other times, it stresses me out more because crying never solves anything. Somestimes, I start hyperventilating when I cry because I know my body is trying to heal itself, but my mind is counteracting. A tug-of-war within myself. It’s sounds stupid. It is stupid. Yet … here I am explaining my stupidity.

I have a counselor whom I see once a month. Lately, I feel like I need someone once a week (every day if I could). But for what? So I can complain, cry, wonder why I am the way I am? I’m tired. I’m 50. I’ve tried for 43 years to fix myself (mostly by myself). I need to just suck it up and push through. There are so many people going through worst things than I am. So many. {more tears}

Every day is a gift from God – another day to get it right. Every day, I wonder what is it that is going to stress me out for no reason? Every day, I try to make sure I measure up to what I am supposed to be (I try). Every day, I ask God to take care of my family because there is so much evil in the world. Every day, I try not to be a hindrance or burden to anyone. Every day, I just have to breathe – slowly inhaling, slowly exhaling. All the while, trying to keep my thoughts and my tears silent.

Sorry if I have brought your spirits down. It certainly wasn’t my intent to spread my negativity into the atmosphere. My apologies to you. Sometimes, I can get relief by writing. Today (hopefully) is one of those days.

Until next time… be blessed.

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8 thoughts on “Hidden tears”

  2. My family never discusses anything. It has caused me more issues than my issues. I possibly share too much, but I’m convicted someone has to so I and others don’t feel like the only one. I am 52 and found out I have Aspberger’s A WEEK AGO. Finally, the pieces are in the puzzle. I also believe God gave us medication, and my most recent is helping. I can’t work in places where most can. 🙁 I have to force myself to do things, or do things differently. I’m still not as emotionally stable as I would like. We may share outdated beliefs we were raised with. For example, I was raised to see going to the doctor as a weakness, or recieving help is unacceptable. And we don’t air our dirty laundry. Certainly we don’t ask for help. Well, all that is crap. I am noticing the younger generations don’t tend to have this behavior. Also, is there any other support you may be able to recieve? There are counseling “groups” here, specifically DBT, that helped me change the way I thought. If your are dealing with health management, there may be a group of women at the hospital. The one thing I make myself do, is attend the ladies luncheon once a month. It’s NOT natural for me, but I realize it helps me get out of my fishbowl thinking. 1 thing that has helped me is to remember that GOD MADE ME THIS WAY. If I can’t change myself, then it’s MADE. I can change some expression of things, like watching my tongue. But He knows our minds and if He hasn’t changed our minds, who are we to second guess. I encourage you to share. The only reason I DON’T on a blog, is because I live in a super small town.

  4. Run your own race. Never mind what much worse things other people are going through. YOU are going through what YOU’RE going through. You gotta do what you gotta do to get through. If that means secret crying, public crying, quiet crying, ugly crying, writing….whatever. Do it. And keep doing it….until you don’t need to do it anymore. I don’t have the answers either….but you’re definitely not alone.