TIMELESS REFLECTIONS BY ZOEY

There’s a heaviness that comes with carrying pain you are not articulate a storm inside that no one else seems to see. It feels like the walls are closing in, the world is moving on, and you are stuck in a place where every breath is harder than the last. I have been there. I am there now. And it’s a place I would not wish on anyone.  

Lately, i have been losing my temper at the smallest things. Words come out sharp, laced with frustration and anger I don’t know how to control. I look at my child, my beautiful reason for staying strong, and wonder: How much longer can I do this? There was a time when my child’s laughter was enough to keep me going. But now? Now i am questioning whether my child will  be okay without me. After all, many children grow up without mothers they manage, right?  

It’s a terrifying thought, but it’s also where my mind keeps wandering. I crave peace so desperately that I wonder if it’s only possible in death. Not the kind of peace that comes with fleeting distractions, but the deep, soul-soothing quiet that feels unattainable in the chaos of my life. I imagine slipping into a coma, escaping the noise in my mind, and waking up only when things are better or maybe not waking up at all.  

When I think about what I need, the answers feel just out of reach. Therapy? There’s no one here who can help. Family? They have grown distant, and the love I once thought was unconditional now feels cold and strained. My partner, the person who was supposed to be my rock, doesn’t reply to my messages or pick up my calls. He’s out enjoying life while I sit here, drowning in loneliness and despair.  

I have thought about turning to drugs, wondering if it might quiet my thoughts for a while. But deep down, I know it’s not a solution. It’s a band aid for a wound that keeps on bleeding. And the truth is, I don’t want a temporary fix I want to feel whole again.  

But how do you rebuild yourself when everything feels broken?  

For now, i am writing this because I need to say it out loud, even if it’s just to myself. I need to acknowledge that i am not okay, and that’s a start. Maybe you are reading this and nodding, recognizing pieces of yourself in these words. If that’s the case, I hope you know you’re not alone.  

Some days, the only victory is surviving getting out of bed, showing up for your child, and trying to find a sliver of hope in the darkness. That’s where I am right now. Surviving. Hoping that one day, i will look back and see this as the moment before things got better.  

And maybe, just maybe, you will see that moment too.