It's Been Hard

Alright, I was supposed to post about makeup, and a few other things...but a 56 hour migraine, The Heartbreaker, and world tragedies, and you know, life got in the way. 

I keep thinking things are going so good, right before things go so bad.

I keep thinking things are working out in my favor, right before things derail completely.

And I have no clue what that means. I know it sucks. I know it's hard. I know it leaves me overthinking just about everything. It leaves me with an achey breakey heart. It means I get pretty quiet. It means I zone out through most of my drive home, stuck in a bizarre circle of what ifs and whys.

I keep hoping that this time is the last time I'm left feeling so....screwed. I keep hoping that this is the last hard part, the last disappointment, the last crushing blow. And that keeps not being true. I keep getting the wind knocked out of me.

I'm sure it's all, be patient and tough, and learn from this, and trust in what is to come...but you know what? When it hurts, that's not what I think. When it feels like I'm constantly losing, you just get that burning in your chest, like oh shit this is it, this is another loss, another good thing gone.

That is hard.

It's been hard.

It has been hard to sit with this big ball of confusion and understand that the only thing I know is that I don't know or understand any of it. It's hard to get comfortable with a big hole in your heart.

I'm not good at that. Even after all this time, I never get used to that nasty pain that whittles away all the extra deep breaths, and sleep-ins, and bright spots that I've been collecting.

So, you break out the line of defenses right? You focus on gratitude. You be so damn thankful for all of those wonderful moments you did have. You be so happy that you ate well, you were warm, you weren't sick, you didn't trip and fall. You be so grateful for everything that you pray it cancels out how much all the crappy stuff burns in your chest.

And you give yourself a little room. Room to not wear makeup, eat the extra brownie, grab a third coffee, and maybe not even be sorry that Taylor Swift made you cry. (It's her own damn fault. She wrote All Too Well with the intention of ripping our hearts out.) And you just hope and you pray that that's enough to carry you through this one more time.

Because that is all you've got at this point. That is all I've got at this point.

So send champagne, hugs, and good vibes. Any good vibes. Because I'm pretty much at the point of reconciling with the idea of getting a pillow pet as my sole companion. And I'm simultaneously off the bagels/pizza/excessive carbs, and I'm super certain this bad news brigade isn't passing any time too soon.