Last week, a friend of mine put this post in her Gmail status. Shortly after reading it, I came across this post amongst the blogs that I read. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that both posts speak true to how I’m feeling and have been feeling for a long time now. I am not happy. Waking up in the morning feels like a chore. Finding interest in people and things have become a burden. Foods that I use to love have lost their flavor. And tears? HA! I’ve cried more times this year alone than I have in my entire life, twice over.
But WHO wants to talk about that stuff? Who can you say those things to without feeling like you’re complaining or seeking sympathy? No one, really. But I’m choosing to tell you all today for vulnerability’s sake. I don’t wake up every morning with birds singing sweet songs in my ears. I’m not excited about much of anything anymore. I feel like a complete stranger to myself. That’s not the kinds of things people want to hear. But it’s my truth for the moment.
After reading those posts, I felt like I should be honest with you all. I know that my writing has changed because I don’t feel 100% like myself. That isn’t fair to you as a faithful reader. I appreciate you so much. So here goes.
), means the world to me. And I know it comes from a genuine place.
