the weight of expectation

I know what’s expected of me. 

I’m supposed to be the strong, optimistic, cheerful girl who meets life head-on. 

But the truth is that I’m barely keeping my head above water - and there’s at least one moment each day when I’m not entirely sure that I’m going to make it. 

How can I let go of my past - when I can’t see anything about my future to feel hopeful about?

And how can I let go of my past - when the nightmares of my memory still haunt me every night?

Yes, my impeccable memory that allows my brain to hold dates and numbers and even entire, verbatim conversations - the same memory that makes it possible for my unconscious mind to replay every brutal, terrifying detail of the trauma that still plagues me in my sleep. 

I know that sometimes I break down over things that seem completely inconsequential - like not being able to get an extension cord to my car. 

But it’s only because every single thing in my life is piling onto my shoulders, crushing me, making me feel like I won’t be able to keep my feet underneath me - and one more tiny piece of straw will be all it takes to break me. 

One thing I’ve learned, that I never wanted to know - is that being in constant pain makes every day a struggle. 

Makes every minor disappointment seem catastrophic. 

Makes every ounce of effort feel downright Herculean. 

Today, I woke up tired. Too tired to carry the weight of expectation.

But I guess I’ll be okay - after all, that’s who I am, right? The one who is always okay.