I think its a sad frustration

 

I don't know what is wrong with me but I am going to write and try to figure it out.  My heart is sad and heavy. I want to hide in a little corner with my music and my art journals and somehow figure this out.  Such a heaviness deep inside. I feel like I should happy and grateful and all I can find is that achy sadness that makes you want to cry. I literally feel like sadness from the movie inside out.  There are good things around me, everyone is healthy, the kids have everything they need but I need something.  I am in this place with long hallways with oh so many doors, and I am overwhelmed.  I don't want to be in my own skin, if feels like I don't belong there.  I get achy and things hurt for no reason at all. The nightmares don't seem so bad, I think because there are enough memories when my eyes are open , that the exhaustion takes over.  Maybe its the Saturday coming up, its enormous and it feels like I can see the wave coming in and there is no safety to be had.  I need there to be some recognition, some something  that I don't even have a name for.  I need a rule book for navigating where I am ;only that hasn't been written .  Like it literally hurts being in my own skin right now. My skin feels like glass, and at any second I might totally fall apart. Every little thing makes me cringe, and at the same time I need that hug to help all the broken pieces go back together.  I want to find a door where there are answers where there is a break, some respite from the sad. For once  I want to know that I am loved and valued and cared for.  I want to find that door where I am worthy even on the days when I feel like this.  A place where there is comfort and understanding.  A place where there are art magazines everywhere to find that picture that matches these deep intense feelings. A picture for the words that I don't have , a picture to tell you how much my insides hurt.  The loneliness is deafening, because these are not things a person can share.  I can not speak the words on Saturday. I can share how I am feeling or what I need.  I will write and ever so quietly, hide the tears. And there is the guilt that it was 17 years ago.  Too long ago to still feel like it was yesterday.  Too long ago for that orange pillow to trigger the blackness. Yet, so many feelings to understand.  I am so alone in this and I am not sure that I know how to even let anyone in.

I heart your heart