The struggle is real.
I’m struggling to breathe, to find the wide open spaces I once enjoyed.
I’m struggling to understand, to make sense of what is happening around me. Mostly, I’m struggling to grasp what is happening within me.
I’m struggling to deal with selfishness, with greed, with the lack of care we show to one another.
I’m struggling with sadness, with an immeasurable feeling of loneliness and emptiness. I adore my solitude, but struggle with the absence of another within it.
I’m struggling with the lies I’ve been told, with the unending disappointment the destruction of trust brings.
I’m struggling with the absence of meaning. I have to be more than this job, this home, this spot in my life.
I’m struggling with age. My eyes are weakening, my joints ache, my children have all but forgotten me.
I’m struggling with the unending pain.
And now I’m struggling with how to end this story.
A very real ordeal. I too feel the struggle of the mundane and my kids getting older and moving on with their own lives. You are not alone. Because of all this I lack motivation as well. I have forgiven past wrongs but they still ache at times.