I’m a survivor?

When you are one of the people “left behind” after a loved one passes away you are considered a survivor of that individual. 

I was recently referred to a group dedicated to family and friends of military members who have died (for whatever reason) who also refers to its members as survivors. It’s called the Tragedy Assistance Program for Survivors and has good information and resources – I recommend looking them up if you fall in this category and attending a care group or seminar. 

I just find it funny that I am considered a survivor of loss. I am a survivor of a traumatic experience.

I don’t feel like a survivor at all. 

Most days I feel like a drifter, a barely-hanging-on-er, a “take some medication so I can finally effing sleep”-er. I am a “drag myself out of bed, find a way to get through the day then lie awake half the night trying to figure out how in the world I got here”-er. 

I am not a survivor. 

Some day I hope to feel like one but today I solely feel like I’m lost in the shuffle, drowning in a sea of pain and sadness, but trying to carry on as though everything is fine. Because patients often don’t think about the fact that you are hurting too. They want to come in and spend time talking about their pains and their lives for an hour. And I get that. Which is why I let them. And I try to avoid bringing my own problems to the table. 

Full disclosure: some days I don’t WANT to survive. I don’t always see the point. I don’t always feel I have much of a purpose. I didn’t feel that way before I met Josh…so then he became my purpose. And at the rate I’m going right now, if I don’t actually start living my life… I’m never going to have a purpose. Just like many other things, though, living my life sounds good in theory…but is such a daunting task in actuality. 

I have no energy or motivation to do anything. The things that I am doing are only being done because I feel like I’m supposed to. I’m only exercising because I hate how I have let myself go – plus the stress of the past year+ has really wrecked havoc on my body. I’m only eating because you are supposed to. I’m only working because I have bills to pay. 

I haven’t been able to do anything that I used to enjoy. I love to read, but I haven’t been able to concentrate. I love to be outside but the weather is a huge deterrent. 

I’m not really living. I’m barely getting by. 

I am hardly surviving. 

I am definitely not a survivor. 

Not yet. 

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