I’m Not Okay

No, I am not okay.  Thank you for asking.

I feel like a shittier, more volatile version of myself.  Who I was is dead – I will never be that person again.  As much as I might hope and pray that I could go back to who I was before, I’ve been replaced by an angry, unpredictable, pathetic manifestation of myself.

I have never had anger issues before.  Now they are all I can think about most of the time.  Things get under my skin, and I start quietly seething.  I don’t know how to make them go away, but while they persist, all I want to do is yell and punch people and break things.  I get so mad.

Of course, I get sad, too.  Those episodes are even worse, because I can usually see the rage coming… the sorrow, not so much.  I will go from fine to bawling inconsolably in a matter of minutes.

I am so sick of being asked if I am okay.  No, I’m not.  None of this is okay, none of it will ever be okay, and every time you ask me if I’m okay, it reminds me that I very well might not be.  It reminds me that I have suffered a devastating loss, and that I was robbed of my son.  Even if I am holding my own, it might only be seconds before, for reasons even I can’t fathom, I fall apart at the seams again.

Because that is just part of me now… sometimes, I just have meltdowns, because I’m broken now.

I will never be 100% okay again.


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