I Know You Want to Lose Hope…Don’t

30 10 2019

I don’t know what you’re struggling with.

I don’t know what’s overwhelming you.

I don’t know why these heavy things are on your shoulders.

And it doesn’t matter that I don’t know.

None of us are immune to hopelessness. Trust me. I know. I’m sitting in the midst of my own moment of darkness.

There’s some big stuff going on and I want to puke every time my phone dings with an attachment. And in the midst of that, it’s 2am and my 7yo ASD son still hasn’t gone to sleep. We’re downstairs working on worksheets so he has something to do because screaming in his bed after midnight just for the heck of it isn’t okay. This is the SECOND time this month he’s decided sleep is optional.

My autoimmune issues are popping up due to stress. I have a migraine I can’t really get rid of. It feels like two tennis balls are trying to burst out of the back of my scalp, and I’m in a flare that won’t stop.

I asked my older son to run to the store for melatonin – maybe this time it will work, it’s been a while since we tried it. He got pulled over on the way home. He didn’t have his phone, so he didn’t have proof of insurance.

And I can’t find the remote. I want to watch TV while I have to be up, but I can’t find the remote. Normally, not a big deal, but tonight it felt like it. (Don’t worry, I found it.)

I stood in the middle of my messy living room, hoping the melatonin kicks in for my son, wondering how I was going to stay awake without the TV, worrying over my son who got the ticket he couldn’t afford because he was running an errand for me. I was composing my resignation letter to leave on my pillow in case anyone noticed I ran away to the Shetland Islands to live on a cliff. And I thought, these are the hopeless moments.

The moments we leave.

The moments we self medicate and self loathe.

The moments we want to reach out but have no idea who to reach out to, because it’s literally the MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT and who would understand all the chaotic twists and turns my life has taken? I’m sure my life’s path looks like it was drawn out by M.C. Escher.

These are the moments we lose hope. We’re so overwhelmed that we can’t see anything else. We can’t see the way out. We can’t see the good things around us and we just want to quit.

Please don’t. Take a break if you need to, but don’t quit.

There is good in the chaos. The twists and turns and suspension of disbelief is what makes Escher’s work interesting, amazing, and unique.

If you can’t get yourself out of the darkness, hold on, help is coming. Life moves forward with new opportunities and ideas.

Sometimes the melatonin works.

(Still not sure if it will this time, but sometimes it does).


In case you need it:

National Suicide Prevention Lifeline



PS: It’s 3am, he’s still awake, but he’s in his bed and he’s not screaming….

PPS: this is one of those times I hate autism. I really need some sleep.



One response

30 10 2019

The melatonin worked. I finally got to go to bed at 3:30 this morning.

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