I haven’t written in a while, and that usually means I’ve been doing fine—busy with sewing, busy with life. But lately, things have started to feel heavy again. Writing has always been my way of releasing emotions I can’t say out loud, so here I am.
September has been tough for my family. I try to be strong for my niece, my sister, for everyone who counts on me. They look at me like I always know what to do, like I have the answers. It’s been that way since Dad passed. I had to step up. I didn’t have the luxury to fall apart. I didn’t even know back then that what I was battling had a name—anxiety, depression. I just kept living with it. I’ve been through a lot, but somehow, I’ve survived.
Still, there are days I long to be that little girl again. The one who didn’t carry so much. The one who felt safe because Daddy had everything handled. But that little girl had to grow up too fast. And here I am, still learning how to live with the weight of it all.
My niece’s episodes have been so hard to witness. They remind me of myself back then. I know how it feels, how heavy it is. I wish I could take it all away, keep her little and safe forever. But at least she has people now—support, love, understanding—things I didn’t have because I kept it all to myself.
It’s not just me. It’s not just her. There are so many of us fighting battles others don’t see. I pray that God surrounds us with the right people and gives us the strength to survive—financially, emotionally, spiritually. I trust His plans, even when they’re heavy.
Right now, I find comfort in a photo of me and Dad that Michael edited. It reminds me that he’s still with me somehow—and that everything will be alright.
