I think I’m going crazy.

Journaling is supposed to be good from my grief and for sorting through my feelings. Sometimes I feel like writing about it only makes things worse. Next week will mark two months since I lost Mom. I often feel so very alone. I moved across the country away from everyone and everything I know less than a year before Mom got sick. I had a few new, and therefore fragile, friendships in place before Mom died. Most of those people have drifted away already because grief is hard. It is hard to be constantly understanding of a person as they are grieving if you don’t know them well and you haven’t been through that grief yourself.

I have fallen off my religious path. I am a Pagan Priestess and I haven’t done a single esbat or sabbat since December. I can feel the gaping spiritual hole in my life. I was meditating and studying every day. Now, nothing. I feel nothing but emptiness when I reach for my Goddesses. I have lost all connection to, well, everything. It is like a huge part of me died with Mom.

Then I start worrying. When my mother lost her mom she went off the deep end. She was never the same and put our family through a world of pain for about a decade before leveling back out. I don’t want to do that but I can see what drove her to that dark space. I have had three years of back to back to back traumas. I can’t even finish processing one before another trauma hits. I’ve given up on ever getting back to myself because I don’t even know who myself is anymore. So I’m trying to find my new self. Which is infinitely hard with two children and a husband and no real space to explore.

Then I worry again because that is essentially how my mom felt. It lead to a lot of pain and her turning our worlds upside down over and over again until she finally found who she was. I feel like I should have a head start because I have always been fiercely independent. I have always known exactly who I am. Then, about three years ago, I found out that a lot of what I thought I knew about my life was a lie. It was followed by years of uncovering betrayal after betrayal from some of the people who were supposed to love me most. So now I’m struggling with not just wondering who I am, but not trusting who anyone around me says they are. I can’t even trust my own intuition anymore because the deep mistrust causes anxiety and it gets hard to tell what is irrational anxiety and what are justified warning signs.

I already sound crazy. Some days I feel crazy. Most days I want to run away to a cottage in the woods. I want to spend the rest of my life alone and gardening and hunting and creating my own world with no interference. I really with that was possible.