Life of secrets
I’m struggling mentally. Something has happened over the last few years and I don’t know how to cope with not knowing things. I can’t deal with the anxiety of not knowing. So I go to all these psychics but time and time again they don’t really tell me anything. They just give me some sort of comfort in that moment in time.
When I’ll get pregnant, for example. I’ve been given every month. Every single month of the year now. And not one of them has been correct - aside from the ones who said I’m not pregnant. Because I never am. Every month the goalpost is moved. Every damn month. And I’m exhausted.
Or if my husband says something and it gives me anxiety because I’ve married someone who is unpredictable which is probably the worst thing I could have done. I go to a psychic. Or I sit in a pile of anxiety. Literally. I can’t cope.
And everything is secret. I can’t tell anyone anything. I feel locked up in my own life. Stuck. Yet I’m holding the key.
How messed up is that?
37 this year. Can’t believe it. 37. No kids. No home.
I’m not entirely sure how to accept that I’ll never have kids. I don’t think I can’t accept that.
I’m fighting for everything else and I feel like I’m losing.