Heart fatigue.
Is that a thing?
Exhausted from feeling all the feelings.
Wishing for more support.
More love.
More understanding.
Less judgment.
My Writing. My World.
I am done.
Done with the not-enoughness.
Done with trying.
Done with the hurt.
Done with all the tears.
Done with the heart-searing pain.
Are we almost there, love?
Because I need us to be almost there.
Probably not as much as you need it, though.
My heart is heavy and hurty and collapsing under the weight of all we’ve been carrying.
But I will not let it collapse completely.
There comes a point in life when the loss can seem just too unbearable.
A teenager who loses their group of best friends to the social wars of high school, a dear friend to suicide, and perhaps a bit of themselves while navigating the world at large…and then a fucking pandemic on top of it all.
I’ve never been a huge fan of 4th of July celebrations.
They always seemed like an excuse to drink too much and play with explosives, which, as the daughter of a retired fire chief, always made me nervous and uneasy even as everyone around me was having fun.
So while I appreciate the moment we all take as a nation to stop and be grateful for the freedoms our country affords us, I’ve always had a greater appreciation for Independence Day from a more personal perspective. I’ve taken quiet moments on this day each year to commit privately to creating more of the freedom and independence in my own life that I’ve always wanted — and needed — which was always more than most people I know needed.