Trying to Breathe

Yesterday I was angry. More so than I have ever been in my life. I was so fed up with everything. In just a short few hours I was attacked from all sides and I struggled to keep my footing. Of all things it was Sunday. The only day of the week I look forward to. But my anger and frustration was so overwhelming that I actually found myself not wanting to go to mass. I didn't want to go to youth group and have another adoration service. I wanted to just lock myself up somewhere and be destructive. To myself, to property, to my life and perhaps even more frightening and disturbing, to others. Now I do not often get so upset that I take it out on other people. Even when they're the problem. I internalize things. I write about things. I listen to music extremely loud and sing about things. I pray. I cry. My entire life has been filled with fingers pointed and my loved ones screaming at one another. Screaming at me. I hate yelling. I hate listening to it and I hate expressing it. Nothing gets accomplished and it just make things worse. I would prefer to talk about things. And if you're not in a position to talk, walk away until you are. That's how I handle things. Or at least that's what I try to do and honestly, I do a good job. Words mean a lot to me and when I say things, I say them with heart and with meaning. I never want to say anything that I will regret seconds later. So I think before I speak. Not all the time, but most of the time. I'm far from perfect.

Yesterday, I didn't want to think. I wanted to lash out on all the people who have hurt me. I wanted to yell at my family and tell them that they have failed me most of my life. I wanted to inflict even the slightest kind of pain on them that they had made me feel. I just didn't want to be the only one hurting anymore. One friend betrayed me, another told me I was selfish for a reason I still do not know and she won't tell. Someone denied the fact that I even loved them. My family did too many things to count and I was just overwhelmed. I held a lot in. I didn't say half the things I wanted to. I controlled myself. For the most part. But I guess when I woke up this morning I didn't regret anything I said yesterday. So perhaps I controlled myself better than I thought I did.

I'm not angry anymore. I contribute that to the fact that I still went to mass and adoration. Even when I was kneeling before the Blessed Sacrament I felt hardened. But Jesus knows how to break through my walls. So no, I'm not angry. But I'm hurt. I'm broken. I'm bruised and I feel defeated. Right now I'm just trying to breathe. Trying to throw a smile on my face and make it stick. But it's a struggle.

I don't know much, but I'm pretty sure life wasn't meant to be lived this way.