such small hands

I didn’t know someone could feel so lonely.  The last few days, I have been wracked with anxiety.  I wish I knew what the future holds because the journey is terrifying.  Sometimes I doubt if I am strong enough.  The pressure of feeling responsible to and for someone else is both motivating and scary.  I feel so unprepared— I just wish someone would tell me I can do it… then tell me how I can do it… and then help me do it… The expression “you made your bed, now you have to lay in it” has been a re-occuring theme.  These are the choices I have made and this is how I chose to deal with the consequences— by taking responsibility and owning up to them.  While I know I made the right choice, the gravity is sometimes overwhelming.  There’s so much shame and fear and worry that I’ve been able to keep under control the last few months suddenly bubbling up.  My mind is racing and I know hormones are playing a big part in my suddenly gripping nerves but I can’t discount these feelings or chalk these thoughts up to something as simple as human biology.  I always think too much.  I always think too hard.  Maybe I am selfish for wanting to know that everything will work out.  I’m at the end of “me”.  Because I don’t have enough faith.  I’m praying for it. — and for peace of mind, the strength that I no longer have but desperately need, patience, compassion— things I cannot give myself.  I’m praying that they will be given to me.  So here’s to another long night of wide-open eyes and the loudest thoughts, tossing and turning, wishing and wondering, and praying.