Chapter Four: No Space to Fall Apart
It's terrifying, knowing that there's no room for me to fall apart. Because when I do, everything around me falls apart with me. There's no space for mistakes, no room to breathe or step back. If I'm not holding everything together, who will? If I'm not the one making sure my little brother is fed, or helping my parent give a helping hand with whatever they need concerning my sibling, or making sure everything's running smoothly, then it all just starts to unravel. And suddenly, the small things start to feel like big things, like everything's slipping through my fingers.
When I'm mentally drained, when my own cup is empty, I keep going anyway. I push through because I don't know how to stop. But there's this pressure that builds up inside me, and eventually, it spills over. That's when things go wrong. That's when I forget to do something I normally wouldn't, or I get short-tempered with my brother, or I get overwhelmed by the smallest of tasks. That's when the cracks in my carefully constructed routine show. And instead of someone noticing that I've been holding it all together for so long, instead of recognizing that I've been struggling, I just get blamed.
It's like my feelings don't matter - my exhaustion doesn't matter. No one asks me what's wrong or why I'm off. They just see the problem I caused when I couldn't keep everything together anymore. It's a constant cycle of being expected to act like everything's fine, even when it's not. It's like I'm expected to be perfect, like I'm supposed to handle all the stress and responsibilities without ever showing how much it's weighing me down. But I'm not perfect. I'm human. And I can't keep pretending that I'm not breaking.
But every time I do slip, it's like I'm failing. Like my humanity, my need to rest, to feel, to be understood - it's a burden. People don't see the hours I've put in or the energy I've spent trying to make everything work. They just see what I've missed. They see the consequences of my exhaustion. And that's when the blame comes. The frustration. The disappointment. But no one looks deeper than that. No one asks why I'm struggling. No one stops to think, "Maybe she's carrying more than she can handle."