cUkf

I broke, or flipped, or fell, or tripped. I feel. I feel stuff.

I feel like I might have made a parenting misstep by leaving my 18 year old to live with her dad while I moved an hour away (fine, an hour and a half) for work. I feel guilt.

I, somewhat, realize that that reads pretty weak, but that doesn't shake the feeling. If she feels in her heart that I left her alone too soon - then I've broken my heart.

I feel sick to my stomach that my older sister is struggling so hard right now with alcohol. She's dragging the bottom of the family poverty line and her disease is oozing from her pores. I feel sick that she and her eleven year old need me.

I feel sick that my eighteen year old needs me.

I feel sick that the Greek wants me.

I hate that Christmas demands a picturesque family - even if it's inauthentic, forced,  and 9 months away - it makes me feel sick.

I think I have eczema fairing up on my hands. I've never had it before, and I think it's from the intensity and stress of work. I'm allowing them to pound and wring everything out of me because here, in this forum, I don't know better - yet.

It's March. Spring is beginning. Maybe that will help.

It feels like I can't breathe. It's likely because I'm holding my breath. I keep catching myself thinking, "Oh hey, I'm not taking breaths" while the pulse in my stomach bleats strong enough that I start feeling it in my chest.

I'm not ready for any of this. I need to pray.  I want to surrender. I want to be free, comfortable, and even.