After my lunch yesterday I was feeling empty and the void creep up on me again. I felt it a bit at lunch but I TRIED to push it aside to enjoy my meal. I didn’t work. I put on my mask and walked out the door and damn near crumpled in my car under the weight of it. Funny, how a void and emptiness make one feel weighed down when in reality they weigh nothing.
I took the “scenic” drive to Gramma and Grampa’s at White Lick Cemetery. Mooresville was flooded pretty bad again from the rain. The water was running across the road in two spots through the corn fields. One was so bad you could see where the water has rushed and pushed all the stuff down in the field across from the field. I drove slowly through and looked at things. The house next to the field surrounded by water and all they did to keep it from coming up and into their house. I hope it worked for them.
I drove up the hill and pulled in, and sat for a moment. I grabbed my phone and walked on the squishy ground to their headstone right up front and sat down. And I just felt this overwhelming feeling of loss. 15 years I have worked as a CNA and now that’s done. I’ve taken care of people for so long…I feel like I’ve lost my purpose in life. I talked to BBF and she said she would pray for me while I was there, then sent me a beautiful prayer that I saved and favorited on my phone, and then I read it out loud. I want to heal, I NEED to heal from all the shit I have gone through in my life.
I had a little epiphany while sitting there thinking and feeling like shit. “I don’t know what to do, or where to go…I don’t have a rock and that’s scary. THAT’S WHAT IT IS. All this upheaval and I don’t have a rock.” I’m on my fucking own. And I’m fucking scared as shit.
And then I started to talk to Gramma and I told her what’s the point of trying to live when everything I do is never good enough? It’s easier to exist than to live. All my life I have felt like I will never be good enough, that I will always work and work and work and get no where. I have felt that way since I was a very young child. So why should I try? Why should I try to do anything other than just enough to get by and through life? It’s not like I’ll ever get any recognition or accolades for doing the things I do. I’ve never gotten “employee of the month” even though I do more than most of those coworkers, but it’s because I don’t kiss ass. I’m not there to kiss ass, I’m there to work and take care of my residents. I’m not there to make friends and whatnot. So all that I did was never good enough because I never played their games. Well fuck all that shit.
So I sat there and I cried all of my mascara off because I realized and felt that I’ll never amount to anything other than another mental illness person floating through life doing just enough to stay sane and take care of her kids on her own with no help from their dad. Now I have to look into Vocational Rehabilitation to help me find a different job. And maybe even help me get my shoulder back into better shape. Who knows? All I know is right now, I feel like shit and I want to wallow and curl under my covers and cry and take a nap.
Because some days are just like that for those of us with Mental/Chronic/Invisible Illness. We are defeated before ever getting out of bed.
I miss having a rock.