Every time I visit my website and see the same post sitting there I feel so…. frustrated, annoyed, disappointed, confused, and just kinda over it. I have so much to say, but life has been so full, so exhausting, so all-encompassing that I can’t believe I haven’t posted.

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I’ve been recording podcasts, but not having enough time or energy to get them up. I’ve been writing sh*t and not finishing my thoughts. I’ve been starting and stopping and not getting stuff up and because life is soooo MUCH right now, I am sad that I’ve left the one thing that brings me so much… exhale…

It’s hard, but I’m trying….

And I keep forgiving myself every time I see that same post is sitting at the top of my blog page, because how is that the last thing I posted? How has life gotten that out of control that I haven’t been back to say more, to share more, to tell a new story?

How… is… this… my… life?

I went out with family this weekend and in the back of mind there’s the fear, “Is this the last time we’re all together?” I can’t miss family events, even though I’m tired as f*ck and being around people drains me to dry rot bones. But I have to say yes, because what if that was the last time? What if that was our last opportunity to laugh together, share inside jokes, smile at each other, just be… normal, us…?

I’m exhausted from the worry. I’m exhausted from the year and it’s not even near over. But it feels like this has been the LONGEST YEAR OF MY LIFE. I’m tired and I’m in tears, because why… is… it… so… f*cking… haaard?

I got on here because I was about to make a “struggle meal.” I don’t have food in my house. I’m out of money. I don’t have more money coming in ’til next month (or if I beg for an advance, the end of this month). Today is the 1st and I’ve already spent all my income for this month. That is my reality. I have $9 left in my account, I think.

I’m so tired of living like this. I’m too smart to be living like this. I’m too gifted to be living like this. I give too much to be living like this. But this is my reality.

I have a disability that I didn’t even know was present until two… maybe 3 now years ago. I didn’t recognize it as a disability until the end of last year. I have been struggling my whole life. I never made enough money. I never could work full time. I never could keep up with it all. And I thought it was because I wasn’t trying hard enough. I just kept trying, and trying, and trying.

I kept looking at the people around me… the people I advised, the people who came to me when they needed guidance, the people who finished the programs I dropped out of, the people who had the income and degrees and the houses and the cars and the upgrades. All these people came to me for counsel, for advice, for encouragement. They all came to me for my wisdom, so why was I broke and they all were doing sooo well?

Why was I the friend that spent the night on their couch to get away from it all? Why was I the friend they had to “foot the bill” for and invite out if they ever wanted to see me? Why was I the one who was constantly shocking them with the new thing that I was doing, had done, could do that was so oh my god amazing, but I was the broke friend, the one who could never get the tab, the one who hated networking events because what was I gonna tell them when they ask, “So what do you do?”

I have gone my whole life feeling so out of place, struggling to keep up with people who saw me as the “smart one.” I remember being in school getting straight A’s, or at least being on the honor roll, but terrified to be called on in class because I had no idea what the f*ck the teacher was talking about, much less the answer. I hated having to go to the board. I knew I wasn’t just going to get it wrong. I didn’t even know the steps. It was embarrassing.

I went through grade school passing tests and quizzes by teaching myself what I couldn’t learn in class. I wanted to do extra credit, but it was only offered if you finished your work in class. I could NEVER finish my work in class, because I was distracted by the noises in the silence.

When everyone was focused and working, the room would be so quiet. So I’d start reading a passage and then someone would drop their pencil, or start tapping/clicking their pen and I’d have to start the passage all over again. I couldn’t remember what I read. When the teacher was at the board explaining something new, I’d be with her until she said that one thing that didn’t make sense to me. I’d be trying to figure it out and miss all the rest of her explanation. So when she said, “Okay, if there are no questions, we can move on,” I’d just sit there quietly knowing I didn’t understand, but I didn’t want the whole class to sigh and get mad at me for keeping them from moving forward. So I’d add that lesson to the list of things to teach myself before the next day, next quiz, next test.

And now, as a parent, I’m still just getting through it. Hustling to get money to pay for this new thing or that, to cover back-to-school, then homecoming, then Christmas, then birthdays, and all the must-spend-time-with-friends events in between. I have been dragging myself through life since I was a kid. Never really enjoying it. Mostly surviving it and enjoying a few peaceful, stress-free, no-one-wants-anything-from-me moments along the way.

I’ve been existing. Not living.

And I’ve reached a point in my life where it’s harder to drag myself through it. I’m starting to not just want more, I need it. I’m at a point where the martyr who takes care of everyone else’s needs and just shelves my own is too worn out to keep it up.

I want to be… alive. I feel like a f*cking zombie and I want to know what it’s like to live, to… enjoy life… to enjoy living. I want to know what that is. I want that to be my experience, too.

And I smile at the thought…. Then, I look at my bank account and remember it costs money to do that. I remember my current limitations and that happy dream gets kinda blurry. And I look around, gather the ingredients that don’t really go together and think of how I’m gonna make a “struggle meal” out of these items so I don’t go hungry. And I know that worst come to worst, I’ll use my dad’s card and get my daughter something great to eat. And I tuck my dreams away for another day and try not to feel they’re fully impossible. And I tell myself that it’s not that bad. And I list the reasons I can be grateful. And I fulfill my role responsibilities. And I watch a show that makes me laugh. And I scroll until I feel a bit lighter. Then I put on my air sounds and water sounds and go to bed and do the same sh*t again tomorrow.

And I tell no one because I should be grateful, right? And I share bits of my story… only the empowering parts, because I don’t want to discourage anyone. And I continue feeling lonely because who would want to be with a broke grown woman who can’t get her sh*t together. And I push that thought to the background because we’re only supposed to focus on what we want. And I never share it because who would care anyway?

And there you have it. That’s my truth.

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Marlene Dillon Empowerment Specialist