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ekalka84

It’s Okay to Admit You’re Not Okay

Sheesh, sometimes life likes to really hit you hard. 


The first week of November has always been a rough one for me. It’s the anniversaries of both my brother and my mother’s deaths. They died four days and four years apart. Some years, it’s fine. I have my moments, but I honor their memories and carry on. Even though I’m sad, I have things to be happy and excited about.


Some years, it hits me like a frickin’ Mac truck. This is one of those years.


I think it’s more of an accumulation of things. Yes, it’s the anniversary of their deaths, but I also got dumped over the weekend (and I absolutely did not see it coming). Plus, work has been super stressful, and I’m still constantly worrying about money because, after several months of searching and applying, I still haven’t found a proper part-time job to replace the one I lost in April. Not to mention the election, which I’m choosing not to think about for the time being. (Definitely taking a social media hiatus for a few days after glancing at my feed this morning.) 


It’s a lot. And the one person I would always turn to when my mind is a mess and I’m not sure what to do, where to go, or how to start processing has been gone for 12 years. Yes, I have friends and family members I can talk to, but it’s not the same as going to my mom. She was one of my best friends and sometimes understood me better than I understood myself. We used to spend hours on the phone with each other, and she’d let me get it all out. Rant about my love life or job, cry when I had a breakup or was stressed, freak out about trying to find new jobs when I got laid off. Everything.


Sometimes, she’d just listen because she knew that’s all I needed. Sometimes, she’d offer advice. Sometimes, she’d tell me to get my shit together because I was an adult and I needed to handle things like one. But no matter what, she was always there for me, even when we were on opposite sides of the world. I knew that no matter what happened or how bad things got, I could always go home, and my mom would help me get my feet back under me. I definitely took that for granted before she was diagnosed with cancer in early 2011.


I miss her so badly. 


It’s times like this that I feel the most alone in the world. I know that I have friends and family who would gladly listen to me and offer support, but… I just can’t go to them. Whether it’s because I know they have their own issues they’re dealing with and I don’t want to be a burden, or I just don’t think they’ll fully understand what’s going on in my head right now. I’m not even sure what’s going on in my head right now.


So, I keep to myself. Keep trying to hold the tears in until I’m alone. I get up every morning and go to work. Push myself to meet my daily goals and quotas for all my jobs. Feed the dogs and let them out. Everything on autopilot until I get through this latest round of depression/funk. 

And god, does it hurt right now.


I want to try to end this on a more positive note, but I’m not completely feeling it at the moment. I suppose I could say that this too shall pass - because it always does - but for right now, I’m not okay.


I just need to hold out until I am. I’ll get there eventually.

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