The Edge of Burn Out

I’m always so tired.   I sleep but when I wake, it feels like I haven’t slept at all.  I feel myself growing angry and resentful.  I feel myself growing depressed more and more each day.  But each day, I put on a mask so no one knows how I truly feel. 

My profession and home life seemed to have merged so I can never fully shut down or turn it off.   Taking care of everyone 24/7.   I want to scream, “Someone take care of me for a change.” But I feel so selfish for thinking and/or wanting that.  

I want to be left alone even if for a few hours.   Free to do anything I want and no one bother me.   Yes I sleep, but honestly I do not count that as free time.   That is so I don’t get sick from exhaustion.   

House is always a mess no matter what I do.  No one living here will fully help me deal with it and clean it.   All make excuses or just abandon me altogether.   

And they wonder why I’m so angry or lack interest in anything.   I’m getting to the point where I don’t like being touched that often.   Someone always on me, touching me, pulling at me.  It’s driving me insane.  I can’t even take a shower or bath uninterrupted.   I use to love soaking in a nice hot bath.  Now it’s like, why bother?   

I’m forgetting to bathe, forgetting to eat.   Forgetting things just said to me or said to me earlier that day or week.  

I’m burning out.  I don’t know how to fix it.  I don’t know how to save myself from it.  I don’t know how relight my flame.   I’m on the edge of burn out.  

So Tired

Every day is a battle.  I battle myself to get out of bed.  I dread getting out of bed because of what the day might hold.

I walk on eggshells trying to keep everyone happy.   Trying to be perfect.  Trying not to mess up.  Inside I’m screaming…some days wishing I would die, but my kids need me.  I can’t do to them what my dad did to us.  

But every day, some flaw is found or made up so that I can be yelled at and belittled.  I fight back but it falls on deaf ears.  I’m always crying, always apologizing.  I feel an inch tall.  Worthless.  Unloved.  On a knife’s edge.

Then every night, it’s an apology.   It’s begging and telling me I’m needed and loved.  Like an idiot, I believe it each time.   

I’m so beaten down.  My strength is dwindling.   I close my eyes to restless sleep.  The days and fights replaying in my head.  And I know no matter what I say or do, it won’t change.  

My health is awful.  I’m depressed even though I try to put on a happy face.  I can see the weariness and sickness in my reflection.  I feel it.  I’m always tense so I always ache.  

I’m scared.  I’m tired.  I’m beyond sad that I can’t even think of the word for it.   I fight and fight.  My armor is heavy.   My weapons dulled from use.  My spirit nearly broke.  The flame that fuels me barely flickering. 

I’ll be nothing but a puppet soon.  Maybe then I’ll be perfect enough for everyone.  I’ll be quiet. I can’t/won’t fight back.  They can do with me as they wish.   No more free will.  No more fight left in me.