get up

 it's like an out of body experience. i'm hovering over myself, begging me to get up, to keep going. but instead, im sprawled out across the road, bloody, bruised, and broken. my eyes are hallow. my skin is in shreds. there is no spark, no sign of life, other than the labored rise and fall of my chest, and the slow, existential, dread-filled blink of my eyes. it's the curse of nightmares or reality. i don't want them closed too long. don't want to stay awake.

i'm not here cos i want to be. but who ever is? i made some bad choices that contributed to where i now find myself, but not every factor was by my own hand, and i can't get up. i find the courage, i prop up on my elbows to begin lifting my torso off the ground, trying to sit up, and along comes another blow, and i'm back down, weaker than i was before. sometimes, i even make it to my knees, i'm about to stand back up, and that's when the next one comes. 

one of my favorite motivational speeches is rocky balboa saying "you, me, or nobody is gonna hit as hard as life. But it ain’t how hard you hit; it’s about how hard you can get hit, and keep moving forward. How much you can take, and keep moving forward. That’s how winning is done!"

and i'm trying. but earlier this week i collapse in my mama's arms and wailed out "i don't know how to get up, i feel like i can't get up" hit after hit, i have gotten up, i have shaken it off, i have moved forward- and i, am. tired. the idea of having to keep do it, to keep going against every force i am facing, it wears me out. i cannot wrap my head around how i am supposed to get up again. all i have wanted to do that last few months, is curl up, and just kind of...well disappear. but i have gotten up. i got back out there and for what? to be shoved. back. down.

so i lay here. i lay here looking at my problems looming over me. all i have ever wanted to do was  have a simple life. to just live. and now all i am doing is barely surviving. and i have tried so many times to take the bull by the horn and show my issues whos boss, to be thrown off said bull and trampled by it. 

"you think this is bad, hold my beer!" and they set off making sure i know, they can get so much worse. 

i have never wanted to just scream, but i do. i have never understood why in the Bible, people in grief would tear their clothes, i do now. 

i keep reading my Bible, and keep surrounding myself with Godly people, but i'm angry. i'm not asking for a life of luxury, i'm not stupid i know God is not a genie. but i desperately need a way out from under the incessant weight i have sitting on me. i feel like i'm dying alive. i know He wants better for me, more for me, and i'm trying to walk in faith of that, when does he meet me? when does he pick me up, dust me off, and carry me? because i am tired. i'm tired in parts of my heart that i didn't know i could be. i feel like i am being mocked. "you won't actually make it out of this" 

i'm clutching the side of the boat, begging him to ease the waves. and if not to calm the storm, to just hold me through it. 

do i ask too much? is what i ask outside of the line of what he gives his children? if im wrong- someone tell me. 

i just need him to lift my head. i just need help getting up again. i need to be firmly replanted on my feet. 

i beg for it. i plead for it. i ache for it. i look for it. but for now, i just wait for it.