Sometimes I talk to my wife, and I can see the concern in her eyes when I’m too hard on myself. She will gently say something, and all at once, I find myself retreating into an apologetic meltdown. There’s a part of me that wants to scream out that I am truly trying, even though deep down, I know she isn’t angry. I long to cry, to break down and let it all out—my heart feels heavy with the weight of it all. Yet, despite those waves of emotion, I must gather my strength, resolve to keep trying, and sincerely apologize for shutting down.

To see the issue and feel powerless to fix it is like enduring a punishment in a cold, dark prison. I can’t shake the feeling that I’m somehow messing up my life and the lives of those around me, even though deep down I know I’m not to blame. I struggle with deep-seated resentment toward myself, yet I recognize I’m not a bad person. I feel shattered inside, but I can’t pinpoint what needs to be mended. The disconnect between my knowledge and my emotions is painfully clear. I understand who I am and how others perceive me, yet no matter how hard I try, I just can’t bridge the gap to align that with my own self-image.

“I know you think I got it all figured out
‘Cause I walk around like my head’s in the clouds
But I’m just a boy with his heart pourin’ out of his head

I can say it now….. I can say it when someone points it out….. but I can’t fix it when I feel it.

I am trying my best, even if it’s not good enough.