Too many cooks *don’t always* spoil the broth

I’m the oldest and I’ve let you down. I should be sorted by now and successful and I’m not. I shouldn’t need looking after; I shouldn’t need this much attention when there are young members of family that do. I should know better.

But I’m struggling. Again.

Yet again, it’s all become too much and I’ve forgotten why I’m fighting. Lately, it’s become too tiring again and I’ve run out of energy. Again, it’s clouding everything and I can’t distract myself. It’s consuming everything, again, and I just can’t tell myself one more time it won’t be like this forever.

The first time, second, third and even fourth you were there to pick me back up, to share the load and remind me why I was fighting so hard. Because it would get better and it would be worth it. You all were my reserves when my supply was failing. Maybe I’ve drained yours too.

And here we are after months and months of the same conversations, the same vicious cycles and I’m still not cured. It’s still the same, it’s still as intense as it ever was and I still haven’t made it into a front page worthy success story.

But this time I sense your weariness. I sense your detachment and I can feel your own uncertainty. I can hear in your silence that you’ve run out of things to encourage me with- you’re equally as stuck as me.

Why have you retreated when it got too hard? When you stopped being able to understand, why did you stop trying? When you swore blind you’d help me and wouldn’t let me deteriorate, what did that mean? When you promised me my fears wouldn’t come true, is that because you thought they wouldn’t and now that they have you’re equally as shocked as me? When you ran out of ideas, why did you stay quiet? When you weren’t able to make it better, why did you have to stop just being there? When you thought it would go away you assured me tirelessly but, now that it’s still not happened, why have you stopped telling me it will?

I don’t understand it either. I can’t seem to make it better either. I didn’t think I’d deteriorate either, or give in to my fears.

I’m scared too. I’m out of ideas too.

But apparently, according to you, I’m not allowed to stop trying, I’m not allowed to retreat and I’m definitely not allowed to give up.

So why have you?

They’re all trick questions really, because of course, I have no idea what I want you to do. And more than likely, what you did wouldn’t be right anyway. As you point out, no one force feeds me, no one actually asked me at the start of recovery to be anything other than minimally healthy and of course, no one “chooses” to make themselves miserable.

But I’m really stuck and just as you don’t know what to do, I don’t either. 

Just please don’t stop reminding me, that there is a point somewhere. Be strong, even if you’re pretending– that’s ok.

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