My stress level is making me want to vomit.

All the time.

I feel like I’m in the depths of hell right now, and it’s dark and it’s draining and I’m beyond crying and the doubt is starting to sink in.

That’s the worst part really.

The dark doubt that feels like mid-night.

The feeling that it’s just not worth it. The feeling that I cannot go through something like this again. The feeling that makes me question everything I thought I believed.

I’m struggling to hold on to God right now. I’m forcing myself to listen to Christian music. I’m forcing myself to read the Bible. I’m forcing myself to pray.

I go from, “I’ve let God down and I deserve everything that comes at me.” To “God, please, help.” To “F You God.” To “What if God isn’t even real?” To “God. Help. Please.”

I cannot process this. I feel like someone hit me in the head with a frying pan, punched me in the stomach and then stole my brain. Everything is a haze right now. I’m exhausted, but I’m not sleeping at all.

I worry I’m overreacting. I worry I’m not understanding the severity of the situation. I worry that I’m going to throw up at any moment. I worry because there is so much of this that is out of my control.

Most of my thoughts include plans to run the hell away from here. To go somewhere else. To pack up my bags and get on a plane and fly until I see at least two oceans.

To shout, “Fine. If you hate me this much, and I did this much damage, then I’ll just leave.”

But I know. I know that leaving isn’t going to fix this.

I just wish I knew what would.