I sit here and I write. I do whatever it takes to hold onto something as my world feels as if it's crumbling around me. 

When I look forward I see a haze. When I look back, I see nothing, but I feel everything. I feel the burden of one thousand things I never finished; I feel the guilt of all the things I didn't do, or pushed aside in a momentary lapse of judgement; I feel resentful for all the things I missed out on in favour of doing the "responsible" or "smart" thing; I feel frustrated that all of my hardwork seems to have piled up on my doorstep in an incoherent heap. 

I am lost. I am afraid. I am fearful and scared - and I don't know why. In fact, I've never so much as uttered those words before. But I guess that's just the person I am now. 

I'm at my breaking point. 

I don't know how to navigate this space well - the space between my fear and my recovery. If I push too hard, I fall apart; I get sick, I get weak, I feel nauseous and bloated and dizzy. If I give myself space, I feel lazy; I worry it's not enough, and I wonder if I'm really being patient or just giving myself a convenient excuse. Every day I feel a little bit better is a day I celebrate - that is, until the day I don't, where I come crashing down amidst the ruins of all my failures, missteps, regrets, resentments, realizations and unfulfilled promises... those days are the hardest, and they come more often than I would like. 

On Sunday night I came home after a long weekend of course-taking (yet another course I need to take in order to register as a Psychotherapist in Ontario). Exhausted, discouraged, and ever-more confused and lost as ever - I broke. I burst into tears, wailing and wailing, the sadness and heartache palpable; growing over the last few days (as my husband can attest). I cried for hours. My husband suggested I take a shower to feel better. I cried in the shower, curled up over myself, desperate and broken - searching for something to make me feel human again. When I got out, I felt empty... used... discarded... just as lost and in pain and in sadness as I have always been. 

Where the fuck do I go from here? Everything in my life right now is causing me stress or pain or agony. I can't stand my job - everyone tells me to quit. I wish it was that easy - and believe me, I'm trying - I wish I could culminate the hours and hours and hours of qualifications I have in my name into a well-paying job that supports my passion and my interests... but it's just not in the cards right now. I can't stick to my goals no matter how hard I try - I run, I paint, I write, I cook, I try to do what I can to keep a pulse on reality, but I can't seem to get more that 4 steps ahead on my goals before I'm pulled off track and back to square one again. I'm stuck in a rut - everyone inspires me to be better, to search for what I need. I wish it was that easy as well. After all, one of the most frustrating things about being a therapist for me, in this moment, is the fact that I spend my time giving people ideas on how they can fix their lives - and yet here I am not having a clue as to what mine is all about. 

I read something the other day, in passing, on Instagram. This woman was talking about how she moved into the space where fear ruled her, and it finally allowed her to take herself back. I loved that, and it hit me. After all, fear let itself into my life over 2 years ago, and it took me a long time to acknowledge it. Every time I pushed back against it, it pushed back against me. So I listened. The problem now is that I don't know how to serve it; live with it; learn from it; or most importantly: grow forward. I feel suffocated and trapped by everyday life and routines and I would give anything to break the hold that this spell has on me. 

Everyday is a fucking battleground. I am fighting for my life, my sanity, my freedom, my self-worth, my finances, my growth, my credentials, my passion, my will to live - you name it. It's exhausting, but I'm fighting for it. To be honest, I could burst into flames just thinking about it right now, because it feels pathetic, and terrible, and sad.

But it is what it is. 

I'm here. How the fuck do I get out?