I did not post this yesterday because I didn’t want to be a Debbie Downer.  I didn’t want to publicly tell the world I am exhausted, sad, and struggling to stay afloat.  I don’t want to admit it to myself so why would I publish a blog that tells the world. So I wrote it….hit save draft and tried to wind myself down to sleep….but instead faced another sleepless night.  

This morning I realized that once again the biggest part of the battle was with the pride of admitting to weakness.  So today I’m hitting publish. 

Tonight as I sit here and try to put words on this page I am simply overwhelmed.  Today a friend told me that she enjoyed reading my posts because they encouraged her and she loved my “God loving self”.  Dear friend, (I know you are reading this) I needed those words.

As I read the words of encouragement (we were chatting online at the time), all I could think is “Oh my…I am such a fraud!”  This week I could not feel less like a positive, God loving influence.  Oh, I’ve tried. I’ve put on the smile, and I have have posted the right words on Facebook and twitter.  I have sent encouraging texts and emails to those that I knew needed them. I’ve blogged about happy things. I have done what it takes to be all things to all people. I did all of those things because it is my pleasure and honor to do so.  But I did it from an empty gas tank.  Which is honestly not fair to them or me.

To be completely honest and transparent. I am running on empty in all sorts of ways.

Stress at work has me feeling like I am drinking from a fire hose. I know that I am drowning. But I cannot seem to find the off switch.

Being behind in grad school has me feeling like a complete failure.  Yes, life has happened, but I have used a lot of that life as an excuse and I feel less than successful. 

My house is a mess.  I wrote about that this week.  And nothing I do or time I spend on cleaning things seems to change that.

I am single and that doesn’t seem to have an end in sight. 

My friend is sick and I am scared.

My friend died and I am sad.

All of the above combined with stress eating (that I didn’t realize I did) has me at a weight I never wanted to be at. 

Every part of my life feels like a failure right now.  And I know it is not true, and I know that if I said these words to friends, they would speak back well meaning phrases and give me hugs, and do their best to insert truth into my life. But even that thought seems overwhelming.


There is a very real fear in my heart that I will fall back into co-dependent tendencies.  I am so scared to be the one sucking life out of someone else, that some days (most days) I lean too far in the other direction.  I put on the mask of “I’m fine,” and I take care of everyone else, rather than reach out to friends and say “I am drowning, going down for the 3rd time, help!”  I hide behind a facade.

But there is hope and truth that my heart knows to be true.  I have written about it on this blog for years.  And I believe in that Hope and that Truth.  I know that I have community that loves me, and who want to walk with me in sorrow as well as joy.  However, they cannot walk with me in sorrow, if I do not tell them that I am mourning.

So today – I finally reached out.  I finally said help!  I need prayer.  I need help. I need more than just a party with a bunch of friends on the weekend where I have to put on a smile and hide behind all of my mask of happy, with encouraging words and phrases.  I do not need motivation and “you are so great” or “look at all you have” cheer me up phrases. I need people who will rise up and go to the battle front with me.  I need those who will go to the Lord on my behalf I need those  who will walk with me in this season, when I don’t look or feel so pretty. I need those who will sit and cry with me without trying to cheer me up, and who will love me for who I am right now.

Mostly I need to be honest with them and myself that I need these things.  I have to let go of the fear that what I was I will not become again. I know that co-dependent Amanda is dead and gone and my confessing to being in need is not going to bring her back.

So here is my confession. I’m tired. I’m wounded. I’m in need.