You again?
I thought we settled this.
I thought you were gone.
I thought the medication,
the time,
the prayers…
I thought they finally beat you.
But here you are,
keeping me awake again.
You tell me to look in the mirror…
Then convince me not to like who’s looking back.
You keep asking me,
“What’s wrong with you?”
I don’t know.
I wish I did.
You tell me I’m failing…
Even though I’m trying.
You don’t see the baseball games.
You don’t see the dance classes.
You don’t see me dragging myself through another day
when all I want to do is disappear under the covers.
You don’t see me loving my husband
with everything I’ve got.
You don’t see me loving my kids
with every ounce of who I am.
So stop acting like they’re the problem.
They’re not.
You are.
You tell me I’m tired.
No…
Not sleepy tired.
Soul tired.
The kind of tired sleep can’t fix.
The kind that makes me snap over little things,
then hate myself for it afterward.
The kind that keeps me smiling in front of everybody,
then crying when the house gets quiet.
The silence…
That’s where you get loud.
You tell me to keep it all inside.
Don’t burden anybody.
Don’t let them know.
Smile.
Push through.
Keep giving.
Even when you’re empty.
Especially when you’re empty.
But let me ask you something…
If I’m so weak…
How have I kept showing up?
How have I made every game?
Every dance recital?
Every bedtime prayer?
How have I kept loving
when you keep telling me
I’ve got nothing left?
You almost had me before.
I really thought I beat you.
Maybe I didn’t.
Or maybe…
This isn’t the end of the fight.
Because there’s still a part of me
buried underneath everything you’ve said.
The part that still believes.
The part that still prays.
The part that still whispers,
“Jesus…
I don’t need You to explain this.
I just need You to walk me through it.”
So you can keep telling me
I’m not enough.
You can keep telling me
I’ve lost myself.
But you don’t get the last word.
Because the girl you’re trying to bury…
She’s still breathing.
MakaylaWall
