3:00AM

dear mom

Dear mom,
I don't how to tell you that I don't know what to do anymore. Ive fought and ignored my anxiety and stress for so long that it's to the point where I can't do it anymore. I just can't. Im overwhelmed and nervous all the time. I can't even think straight anymore. I don't know how to tell you how many tears I've cried over school and stress and feeling like I'm never enough. And I'm tired. So, so tired. I'm tired physically, mentally, emotionally. I shouldn't feel this way, I'm only fourteen, but I do. It's all too much for me to handle. But I do handle it. Somehow, everyday I manage to force a smile on my face, force a laugh out of my mouth, force the tears away until I'm able to cry by myself in my room alone. And once those tears start, they don't really stop. It's like a floodgate has opened. I feel numb and empty inside. I've been fighting for so long, but I'm losing this battle anyways. And I know you think I don't care, I know you don't think grades and school matter to me, but if you were able to just get a glimpse of what's going on inside my mind, you would see that isn't true. I'm trying so hard and I care so much that honestly, it's destroyed me. You lost your happy little girl a long time ago, and you don't even know it. All I can say is, at least if I'm not good at anything else, I'm good at faking it. I've been doing it for awhile now, and you haven't even noticed. And I've tried telling you about the things that are hard for me, I've tried opening up to you. Maybe not all the way, but at least a little bit. But every single time I'm just told how I could change things, how I could do things differently to make it easier, what I'm doing wrong, so I've stopped trying to tell you all the things that are going on inside my head. I don't need to hear that, I know I've messed up. All I ever do is mess up. I can't get anything right. No matter how hard I try, no matter what my best is, no matter what I say, I'm never, ever enough. I mess up, and Im sick of it. I'm sick of screwing everything up, I'm sick of feeling this way, I'm sick of never being enough. I'm at my breaking point, yet I'm still expected to do more. To work harder. There's always something more I can do, I can always be better. What I do is never accepted, it's never enough. So yeah, maybe to you I'm not doing my best. Maybe to you I don't care. Maybe to you I'm lazy and always doing the bare minimum. Maybe to you it seems that way. But maybe you don't have the full picture. Have you ever thought of that? Maybe I'm trying so hard to do my best that I can't handle it anymore. Maybe I care so much that my mental health is a mess. Maybe I'm "lazy" because I'm exhausted. Maybe I'm doing the "bare minimum" because I can't do anything more than that. And maybe you should understand what's going on before making assumptions. I can't keep going. I can't keep fighting. I can't keep pretending. Eventually, I'm going to crash and burn. I can't do this much longer. I can already tell how much worse things have gotten just within the past few weeks. The stress is real. The anxiety is real. The tears are real. All of this is real, too real. It's getting bad. Really bad. And I'm scared. I don't know how much more I can handle, how much longer I can keep going before I loose it completely. I know I'm strong, I couldn't have made it this far if I wasn't, but not even the strongest person can continue with this for very long. I know my true breaking point is near, I can only deal with so much, and I know I've dealt with a lot. But in the end, I'll have to give in. And when I do, who knows what'll happen. But I wish with all my heart, that when I'm done, when I give up, you will recognize how hard I've tried. That you will look me in my tear filled eyes, wrap my shaking body in your arms, and tell my broken self how proud you are of me. That's all I want. For you to know I tried. For you to know I did care. I need someone to see that. I just can't keep going. Everything that's going on is real and true and I'm not making it up. I just give up. I told myself I wouldn't do that, but now I see I have no other option. I'm so done with it all. I wish everything would just end, that it would all just go away. I really can't keep going, I wish you understood that. I don't want to feel this way, but it's not like I can help it. I hate it. I hate it all. But I can't stop it, it won't just go away. I need help. I need your help, and I don't have it. And that hurts. I wish I could be enough for you, I wish I could try hard enough for you. But at some point everyone reaches their max, and I've reached mine. I've given it everything I've got and more. This is it. This is me. This who I am, who I've become. This lazy, careless, messed up, broken girl. No longer happy, no longer carefree. I've given everything and everybody everything I've got, but in the end, I can only do so much. I can only hide who I really am for so long. I've hurt, I've cried, I've stressed over everything. And despite all the anxiety and criticism and everything else, I've strived to be enough for you. I've tried so hard, but this is all I've got. I don't have anything left in me. I guess now I see I just might not ever be enough, and I have to learn to accept that. But please, at least appreciate that I've fought so hard for so long to be enough. Please recognize that I've been trying my absolute hardest. I wish you knew who I really was. I wish that you could tell me that you're proud of me despite all of this. I'm sorry that I wasn't enough, but I tried to be. I really did. I pushed everything down and ignored it for so long that now it's overflowing and I can't stop it. It's now officially out of my control. So here I am. This is my reality now. I can't help it if you can't accept that, but I wish so badly that you could. I'm not perfect. No matter how much you want me to be, I'm not. I'm anything but. I have so many flaws, I've messed up so many times. I know that. And I'm sorry if all of that bothers you. It bothers me, too. But I don't know how many times I can say that I've fought so hard against these flaws that are hurting ME more than anyone else. In the end, this is who I am. Someone who will never be enough for anyone, not even herself, no matter how hard she tries. This is me. I'm sorry.

-ada