It’s too much. The pressure, the drowning. The work, the talking, the social life. It’s too much.
My body aches and pains. It cracks when I stand up straight. My spine won’t stay straight.
Mentally, I’m exhausted. I’m trying to put in as much effort as I can. I try, and I pull it together to put on the mask of fake happiness. No one knows. Invisible scars that no one sees.
Eventually it gets to the point where it’s all just muscle memory. Wake up, feed animals, shower, go to work. Leave work, go train dogs, come home, sleep without dinner. Over and over and over again.
The mask, the costume covers the feelings, covers the feeling of insanity. Thoughts of wanting it to end begin. As the day goes on, the thoughts get deeper and darker, and I suffocate in them.
The feeling starts again. The drowning. I can’t speak, I can’t breathe. No one can hear me anyway. I’m drowning and everyone else is fine.
What helps? How do I breathe? Solitude. Extra loud, sad music. My animals-sometimes, other times they are annoying, and I don’t want them anywhere near me. Which, all they want to do is make me feel better.
Last night, I was drained, empty, exhausted, and depressed. My muscles hurt, and I took a bath in my jacuzzi. My dog laid on the bath mat, Max sat on the edge of the tub the entire time, and Mia snuggled up in a pile of dirty clothes. They stayed there the whole time. At the time, I didn’t notice. Today, I remembered. I noticed.
I love them. I have the night off, and I will be giving my animals extra special attention when I get home. Because I love them. All they had to do was be there. Don’t talk to me, don’t do anything, just be there. And they were.