img_2423I don’t wanna be the first one folding
I don’t wanna be the joker heart
Tell me, darling, will you understand me?
And not show me your cards?

‘Cause I’m paper-thin
And you, you make me whole again

So hold me
Wrap me in love, fill up my cup
Empty and only your love can fill up my cup
‘Cause I’m hollow
Yeah, I’m hollow, oh, oh, oh
‘Cause I’m hollow
Yeah, I’m hollow, oh, oh, oh

– Tori Kelly, Hollow

Everything hurts.  Pain.  Tears.  Fog.  My head feels like it’s overflowing with tears.  With pain that I only hope will come out when the tears spill.  So much pain.

I started looking for a new job or jobs this past week.  Because food service is slowly sucking away my life, joy, and energy.  Day by day.  Hour by hour.  Minute by minute.  It’s been four whole months.

Four months.  Seems so short, doesn’t it?  But it isn’t.  I don’t know how much longer I can go on.  I come home exhausted.  I count down the hours and minutes until I can leave.  I love my coworkers, but… but I want to be anywhere else.  I miss children.  I light up whenever a child walks into the restaurant with their parent(s).  I need their free spirit and joy of life.  Their curiosity and honesty.  Their playfulness and openness.

I live paycheck to paycheck.  Barely.  But I’m living.  And it’s okay.  If I take this new babysitting job, I will have a slightly lower income.  And if I report my income to the government I will be taxed for self-employment (which is a pretty hefty tax percentage).  So technically I’ll be worse off.  But I’ll be doing something I love.  And investing in a little human.  A little girl who I can love on.  Who I can be creative with. Who I can talk to.  And give kisses to.  And feed.  And take for walks.  And share the world with her.

I don’t want to keep living this way.  Barely making enough to pay my bills and not really making enough to save much ever.  But I have food.  I have a place to stay.

I don’t know a lot of stuff.  I can’t plan everything in stone.  I can’t think through every situation and what could or might happen.  I moved here in a whirlwind.  I thought I’d move with no money and with no job set up.  I ended up with money, because my school refunded me some for my medical withdrawal.  But I couldn’t even tell my parents that because they would take it.  That’s painful to think of.  Painful to share.  Painful to know they will read my blog someday and see this.  And maybe they would’ve let me keep it, but who knows.  The fact that I doubt them sort of says enough for me.

I wish someone would hold me.  I’m overwhelmed.  I don’t know how to handle everything.  Life is really really hard.  I’m tired.  My soul is tired.  I wish I had been filled with love and safety in my childhood.  That I’d have that to rely on now.  But I don’t.  And I have to carry on anyways.  I have to survive.  To rise above that.  To learn to love myself.  To learn to let people love me.  It’s so hard.  Why does everything have to be so hard?  Why couldn’t I have been raised better.  All of this pain wouldn’t be here if things had been different.

My kids won’t suffer this.  No one should have to.  How do I explain this to my boyfriend?  I’m sure he had issues growing up, but his parents love him.  I can feel it whenever I’m around them.  They love each other so much.  And it’s amazing and so healing.  I love spending time with them because it heals me.  It’s what a family is supposed to feel like.  Safe.  Warm.  Loving.  Something I never had at home.  Something my heart desperately yearns for.

I’m sorry this post is so heavy.  I’m in a very emotional place right now and wanted to share from my heart, as I always try to do.


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