When do you stop believing?
- June 30th, 2003: My father lost his life to Louis Body Dementia
- August 15th, 2014: My best friend lost her battle to suicide
- January 5th, 2015: I found out that I’d never met my biological father and about 60 of my half siblings
- March 11th, 2015: My grandfather lost his fight against prostate cancer
- March 29th, 2015: I was sexually assaulted
- September 23rd, 2016: My mom’s best friend went missing
- September 25th, 2016: My mom’s best friend was found murdered
For a long, long time, I tried to convince myself that everything happened for a reason. That the bad things in my life and in the lives of others had to happen for a reason. To make us a stronger person or something.
But I’m beginning to doubt it. I should be able to lift a car by now, and I can barely lift a 20 pound dog without getting tired.
I know the strength is internal, not physical, but there’s my comparison (albeit a literal one). I don’t feel stronger. I feel broken. I feel like someone has attacked my entire being — my heart, my lungs, my arms, my legs, my everything. I’m so tired. When do you just stop believing that things will get better? When do you give up on the idea?