I fight every day.
There are good days and bad days and I don’t know what your scorecard looks like, but for me the bad days are winning.
I keep fighting for the good days, but I’m tired and it’s not getting any easier.
I fight my own brain. I fight my own heart.
I fight the voices telling me to quit. To roll over and shut up and just give the fuck up. I fight the never ending chorus telling me YOU CAN’T WIN because you’re a lazy worthless nobody that no one will ever love and we’d all be better off if you just disappeared.
I do this every day.
I fight at work. I fight when at home. Even when I look like a normal guy having a normal day I am battling inside. I fight EVERYWHERE. Because it’s not easy for me. It’s not easy to have a good day. Just to have a normal, average, nothing fell apart or lit on fire and I came home not TOTALLY worn out and didn’t cry (at least not in front of other people) day takes everything I have. Hard work. It’s a no holds barred, bare knuckle, only one of us is leaving here alive fight and it never stops.
And you’d think that fighting the same fights every day would make them easier to handle, that eventually I’d be able to build off of experience and gain some kind of upper hand. But that’s not how it works. Every day is a new round for me and I feel each and every round that’s come before all the way down to my bones. But the world, the voices, the frustration and rage and guilt and shame? Those motherfuckers have fresh legs every day.
It’s a fight every day and I’m tired of fucking losing. I’m tired of coming home so emotionally exhausted that all I can do is stare at the wall or the TV or nothing at all. So tired that my apartment goes to shit and dishes pile up and laundry goes undone because I just can’t even TRY to do one more thing today. I’m tired of flaking on the few friends I have because I just can’t go out into the world because I know there are more fights out there.
I’m tired of hurting people and disappointing family and friends and letting people down and wanting to be better and not being able to figure out how. I’m tired of failing. I’m tired of not getting it right.
I’m tired of my stupid fucking brain drugs and feeling like nothing ever works and like I’m just scraping by. Like I’m faking it and living in constant fear that someone is going to figure it out.
I’m tired of not sleeping. I’m tired of crying. I’m tired of people hating me. I’m tired of hating myself.
I’m just tired.
Even the GOOD days aren’t easy. Even the good days wear me out and come at a price. But you do something, right? You finish that fucking thing you’ve been slamming your head against. You FINISH something or start something or DO something that matters (even if it only matters to you). You make someone you care about smile. You find something or read something or see something that you want to share with that person you always want to share stuff with and she’s thrilled to share that little moment with you. You get to hold the girl’s hand and have a quiet moment. One fucking second where everything is quiet and things make sense and it’s as close to peace as you ever feel. You feel whole. And it never lasts long enough but at least you know it exists. That a moment, a feeling, like that is out there somewhere and maybe if you keep fighting you’ll get to taste it again even if it’s only for a second.
That makes the fight worth it. That keeps you going. Most of the time.
So all I can do is fight harder. Less bullshit. Less doing what’s selfish and easy. Less fucking up other people because of what I want. Less laying down. Less self pity. Less quit. More fight.
I’m tired of feeling like this. I’m tired of feeling like this inside even when it doesn’t break the surface. I’m so fucking tired.
But I’m not done.