Hurt

Once upon a time, there was a skinny, shy, nerd (in looks only). My family, my house could sometimes be chaotic, but I knew there was love. My mom, my grandma, the women who raised me, showed me love in their own ways. My mom showed it by working hard, modeling good work ethic, and the ability to make the most out of life despite not having a lot of money, and supporting me with all the love she could, and,

My grandma, on the other hand, never told me that she loved me with her words, until right before she passed. Instead, she showed me with her actions, (i.e., through her baking and cooking, her talks when I moved out for the first time, and I’d come home just for the sole purpose to talk with her. She shared her thoughts on the world, how things were when she was the young, beautiful woman that she was, and, how she was adamant about how she never, NEVER loved my grandpa.

In general, I knew what love was. We didn’t have much, but we had all we needed.

Flash forward to now, I have tried to love hard in all of my relationships, to my family, to friends (or, former friends now), the kids that I work with, to my wife, and especially to my two amazing kids. In doing so, however, I have left myself out of the equation. I’ve always been one who has never really figured out how to take care of himself. Frankly, I feel alone now, and I feel like every time there’s a glimmer of hope, it never lasts. And, I hurt.

Photo by Marek Studzinski on Unsplash

Yes I see a therapist. Yes I take anti-depressants. But neither one of those things has helped put me back together again. I’m definitely in a pretty low place right now. And, I’m often told or reminded that I need to believe in myself, find the kind of self-confidence that I’ve always lacked, and that everything will eventually be okay, that I just have to give it time, and focus on taking care of me for a change.

Problem is, I don’t know how to do any of that. My life is half over, and the only thing that I truly enjoy is my job. It’s the one place that I enjoy being…a place where I know what’s expected of me…a place that makes me feel like I matter. I’m good at my job, and I KNOW I’m appreciated

Home is mostly broken, and I don’t see a fix in sight. I’m lonely, broken, and rarely feel appreciated. Further, I still don’t know how to take care of myself. It’s what I need the most, but I just can’t do that the way I know that I need to.

And, I hurt. I just hurt.

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