I guess I am one of those people.
I expect too much of myself. Too much that it breaks me to pieces finding faults and misses. I’m done blaming my mother putting me in the pedestal. Always expecting, always pushing, always believing I can do no wrong. I don’t know if it was good or bad. All I know is that I had learned to push myself beyond what I am capable of, always assuming everything can be improved , I can do better. Is that all I’ve got? I want to please her.
She taught me how to believe in myself. I learned to be self-reliant to the point that I will still feel comfortable not asking for help even when I am already drowning. Now that I am an adult and a mother sometimes I don’t know where to draw the line. How much longer can I assume that I am a superwoman?
I don’t like disappointing people and myself. Marriage has revealed so many layers of myself that I feel vulnerable to my partner. I wish I can crawl back inside my shell and hide there.
There were moments when I wake up and only see dark clouds. I feel powerless, hopeless and stuck in my own oblivion. I plead to God to help me, to show me and remind me that I matter here even when I fall short, even when I can’t be the best for everyone. When I find it hard to love myself.
There were moments in my life when I feel like there’s no way out but Be OUT. Those times when I felt so jealous, so insignificant, so disappointed and so ashamed of just being born. I thought about the bottles of pills hidden in the drawers of our house, or the rope in the garage. But God will never forgive me for doing something that stupid. I will burn in the lake of fire. The eternal death. Punished for the most stupid thing I’ve done. Twenty years later , that thought still haunts me.
You don’t know what what’s going on inside our minds. You think it’s just depression. Or it’s the evil spirit, stemming mostly out selfishness. Or an undiagnosed mental illness. I can tell you it’s the heaviness that feels unbearable. The lack of self-love. The frailty of human life being stained by lies and crushed hopes and unfulfilled expectations of others.
I still feel that way from time to time. It’s hard to imagine not living with the thought of a Saviour. I will be damned. Where will I draw my strength from,or wisdom, self-control , patience, and grace?
I could just jump off the 16th floor every time the dark clouds come by. Every time I failed to be the best mother to my child and wife to my husband and when it’s too hard to love myself. But His hands are gripping my hands tightly. I am bought for a price, no matter how many times this world can hurt me and put me to shame. I matter to Him. And He wants me Saved.