"Do you think you're at risk of hurting yourself if you go home today?" my midwife asked.
"No, I'm too weak. Even when I want to give up, I'm too scared and weak to actually do anything about it."
"That's not weak. That's brave. It's brave to everyday keep facing a life that's giving you pain. It's brave to not give up," she answered, and of course I started crying.
I don't feel brave. I don't feel anything good. I feel like I'm trapped in anger and despair. Not about life in general, but regarding a certain relationship. And then that colors everything else, and at times, I do despair about life in general.
I don't know what's going to happen next. Maybe I should have listened to my midwife and let her send me right to a hospital. I felt like that was too drastic. But now that I'm home and trying to find someone to help me, I face the discouragement of slogging through lists and making phone calls that come to nothing. Anyway I feel so messed up that I don't know how anyone could make something good out of my broken pieces. In my head, I know it's possible, but in my heart, I don't believe it for a second.