by Joanna Jameson

Created on: November 09, 2008

29 November 2006

The Hell of Hopelessness

The alarm goes off and country music is blaring in my dark bedroom. I grudgingly roll over and squint at the clock 6:34 a.m. "well maybe I can sleep until 7 and still have enough time to get everyone ready and out the door by 8:15" I convince myself that I can and reset my alarm. I roll back over cuddled into my warm blankets and quickly fall back to sleep. What seems like 5 minutes later the alarm goes off again. I still don't want to get up. I don't want to face the day. I don't want to leave the safety of my warm bed. Sleep is my only escape. It is all I want to do these days. When I am asleep the world can not hurt me. No one can tell me how disappointed they are in me. Oh they don't have to say it I can see it in their eyes. I know they are, the whole world is, disappointed in me that is. I don't blame them; after all, I am disappointed in me.

I hear the squeals of little ones in the hallway. That is my cue to get up, like it or not. Those little ones are the only thing that drags me out of bed anymore. I have no energy, no motivation, no hope. Every little thing takes every ounce of energy in my body to get done. I have no joy within me. To be honest I can't remember the last time I was truly happy. I vaguely remember finding true contentment in participating in activities with my children. I don't feel that anymore.

There is no joy in going to the park or having a snowball fight in the yard or jumping on the trampoline with them anymore. All of it simply seems like another activity that requires me to exert energy that I no longer have. I have no energy or motivation for anything anymore. Everything seems like such a chore from eating to showering to sleeping. Not to mention the energy I should have to play with my children. Oh don't get me wrong I love my children. They are what keeps me going. They are the only reason I leave my bed ever. Without them I would have no reason to.

I haven't always been this way. I remember the person I used to be, back before all the disappointment in my life. Back before the post-partum depression and the deaths of loved ones, before the betrayals of friends and the loss of love. The girl I used to be seems like a dream now a distant memory of someone I once met. It is unfathomable that she and I are one in the same. She was motivated. She had dreams. She had a future. I don't see that in myself. I see a dark hole that will any second consume me. I see nothing but disappointment

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