I have struggled this week.

Truthfully, I have struggled to finish the days set before me. And I've struggled to start the days too. 

I've been redrawing boundaries with folks near and dear who should know better but don't. It's hard work, heavy work. I am often riddled with self doubt and a desperation that consumes me. I want to be understood. I don't want impossible things to be asked of me. Sometimes people hurt you most when they are trying to love you. That doesn't make what they were doing less hurtful.

In my family, I am the boat rocker. The one who finds the dirt under the rug. The bridge builder. The yeller. The question asker. The defender. The confronter. The first to apologize--regardless of whether I feel like I have the most to apologize for. The one who never stops trying to make things better. I ask for more. I know I intimidate and exasperate my family. But I know no other way of being. 

I reached the tragic place of being too exhausted from yelling into the void. So I withdrew. For the first time in 30 years of doing family, I stayed quiet even though I had so much to say. I hoped that those family members would respond more to my absence than they had to my constant effort because I was out of ideas, out of energy, out of words. And to my great surprise, a few folks came back. Some came accusing me of abandoning them and that was ironic. And some came cautiously, quietly feeling out the ground I had left empty.

In both cases, I have needed to be clear about what I will and will not accept when people try to love me. I am glad for that down time when I withdrew. It's helped to prepare me for this next phase. But still, I am exhausted. Keeping these people in my life in healthy ways is taking everything I have. Physically, I am barely strong enough to see this through. Some mornings, I can barely see much less think. My stress affects me in my sleep. I clench and grind my teeth until I am sore from the top of my head down through my shoulder blades. I wake up feeling like my teeth are vibrating. My face feels like someone slammed it into the asphalt. 

This morning, all I could think of was that my tongue was the wrong shape. It had been flexed all night and I couldn't remember how normal people hold their tongues--touching their front teeth? Probably not rammed up against the roof of the mouth like mine. If I relax it, it feels like it's going to fill my throat and I won't be able to breathe. That's probably the anxiety talking. But knowing that doesn't solve the fact that I don't know what to do with my tongue. Round and round my thoughts raced while I tried to fall back to sleep. 

I am not ok. But I am trying to be ok. I am the kind of "not ok" that comes from trying to fit the pieces back together. The kind of "not ok" that no one can really help ...unless you want to do my laundry, clean my kitchen, and help me think of soft foods that sore teeth can handle. I have a lot of friends who like to give advice and share experiences. I do not lack answers. I need folks to massage my clenched shoulders and tell me that it's ok to ask for what I need even though I know that. And honestly, most folks advice and relevant experience has begun to stress me out. And my body simply cannot digest anymore stress. 

I hate this season of life. No one wants to be this fragile. I do not want to hurt this badly. Sometimes, I dread going to sleep because I might wake up in so much pain. I'm on a full regiment of stretches, hydration, vitamins, herbs, regular (soft) meals. (I realized that haven't been eating enough because my jaw gets tired so I need to prioritize soft foods if I'm going to feel full). All of this barely maintains functionality. I've become someone who falls asleep with a heating pad on my face. 

Today I woke up at what I would call a 3 on the pain scale. But I don't know what someone else would rate it. All I know is that I have been in 70% more pain at some point in the week so this isn't too bad. Despite the pain behind my right eye and in the back of my head. Trying to account for how familiar this pain has become but also adjust for how annoyed I am that it is still here and I don't know what use a pain scale is except to say that I am still here in this body no matter how much I wish I was a robot or a plant. Still here. Still stressed. Still trying.