When I had my first breakup, I thought there could be nothing worse. I cried for months, went in disbelief, denial, trauma, depression, in phases, sometimes all at once. Yet I thought there could be nothing worse. And I was right. It did not pass.
When I got PIP, I thought there could be nothing worse. I did not cry this time but anxiety found a permanent home. Difficulty in surviving, lost interest in thriving, constant feeling of staring at the traffic lights, borderline wanting to high jump. Yet I thought there could be nothing worse. Even got a tattoo to remind me of that phase. It passed.
When I had my first miscarriage, I thought there could be nothing worse. There was a lot of crying, financial downsidens and extremel physical pain involved. There was a complete change in my life plans, God perception and confidence, or the lack of it. Yet I thought there could be nothing worse. And there was one more miscarriage. Before it could pass.
Standing where I stand today, earnestly praying and hoping that nothing surpasses this. No more worse life stories. Please. I am just so tired. Living in fear everyday. For my job, for my health, mostly for my job. Am I wrong to feel that way as a woman? Guess we'll never know. But Gods, if you exist, stop the circus. I CAN'T BREATHE.
Staaaaaaaph!
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