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Back To Me...

This is a post I wrote out but never posted a couple of months ago...


"Some days I wonder when I'll ever get back to me-
the happy, optimistic, stress-free me.

Will I ever feel normal again? 

A part of me feels like I should hide this, the pain, the emptiness, the anxiety...because a Christian woman who loves Jesus isn't supposed to feel this way, is she? She's not to supposed to feel this bad, this empty, this lost...right? 

But then I am reminded that I had a piece of my heart and soul ripped away, and that is going to take time to learn to live with. I went through a trauma that has changed my brain.

I have to accept that the old me is gone as well. Maybe some part of her will emerge from the ashes, but for now, she is not who she once was.

Is this depression? The feeling of loneliness, emptiness, always wanting to cry, the exhaustion? 

Or is this just part of grief? Part of having your whole life change drastically and suddenly?

Maybe one day she'll come back. Maybe one day I'll feel like "me" again...."


One thing I feel like I have "gained" in all of this is that I can relate to and have much more compassion for people with mental illness. I haven't been diagnosed with depression or anxiety or anything, but I could feel it going in that direction and knew something had to change. So I'm taking medication right now, and I have no shame in admitting that. I tried therapy for a while at first, but it wasn't enough . The medication is definitely helping. I can get through the days without this constant uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach. I still cry and still feel sad at times, but don't feel like I want to cry all day, every day and can't stop. I couldn't continue living my life that way.

Sometimes it's okay to admit we're not okay, that we need help. Trying to think positive or just "be happy" doesn't always work. Even if you love and trust Jesus, there are times in our lives when we need professional help. It is not weakness. It is not something to be ashamed of.

It's been 565 days. 565 days that I've survived without the love of my life, my best friend, my whole world, my everything. My life is not horrible right now. It is different...it is still bizarre to me at times...it is confusing...but I am living, and I actually have good times. I have a job, a house, family and good friends. I have Jesus. I am with a good guy whose kids I love so much. I actually really enjoyed the holidays this year with them. But I still have my bad days when the sadness hits me and the uncertainties and fears of the future overwhelm me. I still have the guilt about moving forward, I still have the fear that I won't truly be happy again, or that this won't work out and I'll be back to starting over all over again.

But I'm trying...Trying to move forward, trying to find joy and contentment again, trying to be thankful for all that I have, trying to make the best of the life I've been given, trying to hang on to hope. Some days it's not a choice. Some days I am happy. And other days the "funk" just hits me, the grief claws it's way back, and the anxiety takes over...it's not my choice. I just have to honor those emotions and trust that they will pass and that in time, I will feel more like "me" again.

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