I have been grieving every day of the last three and a half years.

I thought that by this point there would be nothing left to cry about, nothing left to mourn, that I would be back to normal, and that everything would not be such a struggle.

Enter disorder diagnosis number 4.

It started with PTSD. Now I have three more identified anxiety disorders. In a way it’s good because I’m learning more about why things still aren’t quite right for me. Why some days I just can’t, why I am now frequently late to meetings and events, why relationships are so hard, why I have panic and anger flare-ups, why I get tired, why exercise is so abhorrent to me and why leaving my house is the last thing I want to do.

In a way it feels like I just my feet kicked out from under me again. Back to the disappointment that I have one more disorder to struggle through, one more thing to hold me back, one more reason to doubt that I am correctly interpreting situations/tones of voice/facial expressions/text messages/lack of communication/over-communication and one more facet of my already over-complicated life.

Why do I choose to fight other people’s battles when I can barely handle my own?

Right. Disorder #4.

Easter weekend is meaningful for me in many ways as a time for joy and hope, so this most recent diagnosis came at a time that I was completely unprepared to cry my eyes out yet again. To grieve another loss, to face another challenge and to feel, frankly, really lonely.

I’m not ready to talk about it because I don’t know much about it yet. It just seems so big, probably because I don’t know much about it yet, and it is hard to talk about.

Because I don’t know a lot. Because it explains a lot. Because what it explains about me is deeply challenging and I really don’t want to do the work to overcome it. I have worked really hard for the past year, and it is not enough.

Nothing I do is enough.

Which is why I am so grateful Easter was enough.