liar liar

He calls me a liar nearly every day. One day I was even a "lying, liar that lies".  Last night he threatened me to stop spreading my lies to others.

For the most part he's wrong.  I don't lie. I'm brutally honest. If you ask me if you look fat in those pants, be prepared for the honest truth. It's just who I am.

But I do lie.  I lie to myself every time I say "everything is going to be OK". Every time someone asks me how I am and I answer "fine". The red, puffy eyes are just allergies. Behind the facade of the smile is a deep well of pain.  Behind the door is someone who can't stop crying. Who doesn't eat or sleep. A liar.

It's easier to smile and tell you "I'm good" than to admit to the world (and to myself) how utterly broken my life is. 

The truth is - this is kicking my butt.  I have gone through some stressful situations in my almost 44 years but  nothing compares to this.  Nothing has left me so bereft. So devoid of hope. So continually sad. So utterly angry.

I'm tired of lying. Honestly, I'm just tired.

I am an empty shell.  Gone is every ounce of strength. Every ounce of patience. Every glimmer of hope and joy and faith. Gone.

I have nothing left to give. To myself. To others.

I can't imagine a lifetime of this. I can't even imagine one more day of these feelings. I am dying on the inside. And yet, I keep smiling on the out. But even the lie is crumbling and soon all that will be left will be the dark truth.  My child is mentally ill.