“This isn’t normal:” my latest mantra. “None of this is normal. Of course you’re not operating at 100%, of course everything is harder, of course little things stress you out, of course you’re not the best version of yourself. This isn’t normal.”

I’ve been chanting that to myself the past few weeks. It provides an avenue of self-compassion and understanding, I suppose. For whatever reason, it works.

It’s frustrating — always feeing like you’re only 10% of who you once were. Realistically, I’m a bad friend. I’m a bad manager. I’m a bad worker. I’m a bad wife. I’m a bad daughter. I’m a bad sibling. By bad, I just mean that I can’t show up like I used to or like I want to.

I don’t have the energy to, I don’t have the wherewithal to, I don’t have the ability to… and of course I don’t. Because this isn’t normal.

But then you feel like you’re bad at everything [shame]… so you withdraw from everything [because of shame]… and everything is oh, so isolating. Aaaand we’re back to being exhausted.

What do people expect from me? What do friends expect from me, what does my job expect from me, what does my community expect from me?

Sometimes they say they don’t expect much, but that’s just not realistic. People expect me to function somewhat normally, and I just can’t. Why? Because this isn’t normal.

The thought helps me have compassion for myself and for where I’m at. The phrase gives me reason to be proud of myself for all that I am able to do.

This grief, it’s stolen so many years from my life. I’ll have to devote decades to healing and surrender decades to simply not operating at 100%, and that sucks. It just sucks.

I mourn that, too. I mourn my limited capacity. I mourn my shame-filled inability to show up for others.

I’m so tired. I am so, so tired.

God, I hate this.