How Did I Get Here?

Field Notes from the Edge

✦ Journal Entry — Date Unknown

Written during a week when everything seemed to rise at once — grief, anger, guilt, exhaustion. This is the kind of entry that doesn’t answer anything, but it asks the questions that demand to be honoured. It’s not a breakdown — it’s the surfacing of a long-unspoken truth.

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How did I get here?

That question has been looping in my head — not once, but constantly. And every time I ask it, I feel a cascade of emotion: disappointment, anger, frustration, guilt. But also something quieter underneath — a kind of shock. Like I’ve just woken up and realised I’ve been sleepwalking through a war zone.

So what does “here” even mean?

It’s this state of mind I’m in — fractured, stretched, exhausted. I used to be someone who could regulate emotions. Who could compartmentalise, process, stay calm under fire. I had to be, especially with Karina. She was volatile, unpredictable — often emotionally aggressive. If I didn’t keep myself together, it would’ve all collapsed.

So I became a master of emotional control.

For her. For the promise I made. For God.

But now…

Now it feels like I’ve lost the map to that control. My emotions are running the show. I get triggered so easily. I’m scared of how fast it shifts — like a pinball machine where every light is flashing and I can’t find the flippers anymore.

And that makes me angry. Because I prepared for this.

I had ten years to see it coming.

I knew the end was going to be brutal.

So why does it feel like I’m failing now?

The anger is sharp — but it’s not just about now.

It’s about every moment I held it together while Karina fell apart.

It’s about doing everything right and still ending up here — raw, alone, directionless.

I feel guilty too. Because I know how hard I worked. I know how long I held the line. And still I whisper: Shouldn’t I have done better?

But maybe the truth is this:

• The last five years weren’t just difficult — they were unrelenting.

• Home dialysis, cancer, heart disease… there was no break. No buffer.

• I was exposed to full-spectrum trauma every day, and I had no room to process any of it.

That wasn’t preparation. That was survival.

And survival doesn’t leave you whole — it leaves you spent.

I’m beginning to see that trying to emotionally analyse my way out of this might be doing more harm than good. Maybe I don’t need to dissect every feeling right now. Maybe I just need to feel it. Let it pass through without trying to diagnose it.

I’m not spiralling.

I’m surfacing.

And yes, it’s messy.

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✦ Reflection

This isn’t about emotional weakness. It’s about emotional debt. I carried more than most people ever will — and now my system is trying to metabolise it. Maybe I didn’t fail to prepare. Maybe the preparation was never supposed to protect me from feeling this. Maybe it was supposed to carry me to the other side — and now I’m here