Sinking

It feels like I am running on empty in a way I cannot fully explain anymore.

Tired in a deep way that sleep does not fix.

There is this constant cycle I cannot seem to escape.

Explaining.

Defending.

Advocating.

Over and over again.

Medical systems.

Doctors.

Appointments.

Strangers who do not understand.

Forms.

Calls.

Messages.

The city.

The government.

The paperwork.

The waiting.

And just when I think I have nothing left to explain, it shows up somewhere else.

Now it is not just systems anymore.

Now it is family too...

And that part hits different.

Because it never really stops.

Every call feels like another round of having to justify existence.

Every new appointment feels like starting from zero again.

Every text feels like I am back in the same conversation I already had ten times before.

Reminding.

Repeating.

Advocating.

Explaining.

Reminding.

Repeating.

Advocating.

Explaining.

It loops until it becomes the background noise of life.

And I am exhausted from it in a way I do not have words for anymore.

Exhausted from having to defend everything in every direction.

Health.

Life.

Finances.

Circumstances.

Everything.

All the time.

Everywhere.

At some point it stops feeling like living and starts feeling like managing survival.

And honestly I do not even know how to keep explaining it anymore.

Because no matter how clearly I say it, it still feels like it is not fully understood on the other side.

So I just keep going.

Still showing up.

Still answering.

Still trying.

Still replying.

Still carrying it.

But something in me feels worn down in a way I cannot pretend is fine anymore.

It is not dramatic.

It is not loud.

It is just exhaustion that settled in and stayed.

And maybe the hardest part is realizing how long it has been going on.

Because it is not just one bad week or one hard season.

It is layers of it.

Years.

Stacked.

One after another.

Until everything starts to feel heavy all the time.

Dreams, plans for our future put on hold again and again...

It feels like that scene in the show Maid, where she slowly sinks into the couch.

At first she is still sitting normally. Still aware. Still trying to hold herself up.

Then little by little, she starts to sink lower and lower.

Not all at once.

Just gradually.

Until it looks like she is still there on the outside, but something in her has stopped pushing back against the weight.

There is no dramatic collapse.

No clear breaking point.

Just quiet disappearance into stillness while everything keeps moving around her.

You can still see what needs to be done.

You can still hear what is being asked.

You still know what you should be doing.

But the energy to separate yourself from the weight is not there in the same way anymore.

So everything starts to feel heavier than it should.

Even simple things.

Talking.

Answering.

Explaining.

Exsiting.

Showering.

From the outside it can look like nothing is happening.

But inside it is exhaustion, overwhelm, and shutdown all at once.

Like slowly becoming part of the couch while still being expected to function like everything is normal.

At this point it feels like the only thing left is trying to protect whatever peace is still here.

Quietly.

Carefully.

Without explaining every move.

Without justifying every decision.

Because explaining everything has not made it lighter.

It has only made it louder.

So it will probably look like less talking for a while.

Less defending.

Less explaining.

Not because there is nothing to say.

But because there is nothing left in me that wants to keep repeating it into spaces that do not seem to hear it anyway.

Just trying to get through life the best way possible right now.

Day by day.

Hour by hour sometimes.

Holding onto what's still steady.

Praying one day, I will make it out of the couch.