Today I did my makeup. I feel like I’m hitting my low point again but I feel it’s easier for the world to cope with a painted face and a fake smile instead of the truth. When my makeup is on nobody asks me if I’m OK and that’s how I want it to be.
I’ve been walking around with this huge lump in my throat and if people could see how I feel inside I would collapse to the floor and break down in tears.
This lump in my throat is so heavy and it’s taking every bit of strength I have not to cry. I can’t do anything about it but let it take its course. I’m not allowed to die because my kids and husband apparently need me. I’m already in therapy I’m already taking medications for depression, anxiety, and chronic pain. I don’t know what else to do. I’m sitting here suffering in silence trying not to mess up my makeup with pointless tears.
Shit. The lump won. The floodgates have opened.
posttraumaticsurvival 