I don’t even know where to begin. My eyes sting from another sleepless night, but closing them just makes the worries louder. Bills pile up on the table like a cruel reminder of everything I can’t get ahead of. Three jobs — three jobs — and it still feels like I’m drowning.
I work mornings, nights, weekends. I work until my body aches, but the money disappears as quickly as it comes. Child support, rent, the car, the never-ending little costs of just existing. Gas is expensive. Groceries cost more than I can afford. Some weeks I stretch a loaf of bread and a jar of peanut butter like it’s gold.
Sometimes I take cash advances on my pay just to keep the lights on. It feels like borrowing from tomorrow to pay for yesterday. I tell myself it’s just until I catch a break. But the break never comes. Instead, I lie awake staring at the ceiling, my heart pounding, my mind racing. How much longer can I keep this up?
There are moments — quiet, heavy moments — when I feel like I can’t breathe under the weight of it all. Like I’m failing. Like I’ll never get ahead.
But then I remind myself: I have to carry on. For my kids. For myself. For the hope that things can change. Maybe tomorrow I’ll find a way to make one thing just a little easier. Maybe tomorrow I’ll eat a decent meal, or laugh, or get a few hours of sleep.
I don’t know how yet. But I know this: I’m still here. I’m still trying. And for now, that has to be enough.
Not done. Not yet.
