Some may call the following words the musings of a mom on the verge of a breakdown, I disagree. These words being openly expressed after years of avoiding pain and struggle offer the tiniest sliver of hope, even in the midst of despair.
Most days I’m afraid of myself…
I’m afraid of the monster inside of me that gets off on sabotaging me from reaching my goals.
I’m afraid of the depression defiantly returning and leaving me with even fewer options than before.
I’m afraid of disappointing everyone around me.
I’m afraid of becoming an embarrassment to my family.
I’m afraid of being alone with my thoughts.
I’m afraid of pushing my boundaries only to discover I’m not capable of much more than survival.
I’m afraid to speak openly, because then people would actually know the kind of person I am.
I afraid of my children growing older because every single day brings them closer to realizing the truth about their mom being a complete failure.
I afraid my husband will replace me with someone less broken.
I’m afraid of my parents blaming themselves for the disappointment I have become.
I’m afraid of dying because my deepest thoughts would be discovered.
I’m afraid of never realizing how much these fears are holding me hostage.
I’m afraid of never learning how to save myself.