There are moments in life where it feels like everything is happening at once. Not one storm. Not one heartbreak. Not one impossible thing.
Everything.
I don't write this because I'm looking for sympathy. I don't write it because I expect anyone to fix it. I'm writing because I think I've reached the point where pretending I'm okay is exhausting, and maybe putting these words somewhere outside of my own mind will help me understand them a little better.
The truth is, I feel completely lost. I lost someone I loved deeply. Someone I didn't just call a friend, I called her my sister. That kind of grief isn't something you simply "move on" from. It settles into your bones and quietly reminds you that the world is a little less bright than it used to be.
Then there are my parents. Watching my father disappear into dementia has been one of the most painful things I've ever experienced. Every call feels like grieving someone who is still alive. Every forgotten memory feels like another page being torn from the story of who he was.
And now, I'm beginning to watch my mother slip away too. She's so sick. She's lost so much weight that she barely looks like herself anymore. Every time I see her, it feels like she's fading a little more. I wish I could help her. I wish I had the money to save her house from foreclosure. I wish I could fix her health. I wish I could take away her fear.
But I can't.
All I can do is stand there feeling completely helpless while someone I love slowly disappears. That kind of helplessness changes you.
My own living situation has become another constant source of stress. Fearing for my life everyday is dreadful. It feels like there's never a moment where I can truly exhale. Every day brings another worry, another responsibility, another reminder that life doesn't seem interested in giving me a break. And somewhere along the way, I lost myself.
For those who know me, you know how deeply my submission means to me. Serving my Masters has never been something I had to do. It has always been something that brought me purpose, peace, and fulfillment. Lately, I have nothing left.
By the time I reach the end of the day, I am emotionally empty. Not rebellious. Not resentful. Just, Empty. That realization has been devastating.
I feel like I'm losing a part of who I am. A part of my identity that has defined me for years now feels buried beneath grief, exhaustion, depression, stress, and survival. I don't recognize myself anymore. I'm also fighting battles most people never see. Deep depression. Other, mental health struggles. Physical health issues. The kind of invisible weight that makes even the smallest tasks feel like climbing a mountain with broken legs.
People often say, "Just take it one day at a time."
Sometimes one day feels impossible. Sometimes one hour feels impossible. And when enough impossible moments pile on top of one another, You disappear.
That's what I think I've done.
I disappeared inside myself. Not because I wanted to leave the people I love. Not because I stopped caring. But because I simply didn't know how to keep carrying everything I was carrying. It is like I've wandered so far into the darkness that I can't even remember where the path back begins.
I don't know how to find the light right now. I don't know what the first step looks like. I don't know how to become the version of myself I miss so much. I only know that somewhere beneath all of this pain, She's still there.
I have to believe she is. Because if I don't believe that, then I've already lost far more than I can bear.
So today, I'm not writing because I have answers. I'm writing because this is where I am. Lost. Confused. Grieving. Overwhelmed. Trying to survive a life that has asked more of me than I ever thought I could give.
Maybe tomorrow I'll find one small piece of myself. Maybe next week I'll find another. Or maybe healing is simply admitting that right now. I don't know the way home.
And maybe that's the most honest thing I've said in a very long time.