Stunted.

stunt

\ˈstənt\transitive verb

:to hinder the normal growth, development, or development of

Stunted. The word seems to buzz loudly like an alarm clock in my head over and over calling me to wake up. I’ve tried for days now to explain the funked out depression I’ve found myself thrown headlong towards. The suffocating feeling of drowning inside myself is indescribably paralyzing and I find myself wondering if I’ve allowed too much water in my lungs to be able to resuscitate.
The saying goes that when it rains, it pours. And I must wholeheartedly agree that I’ve never felt more soaked without a day of sun to dry even a drop.
One event after another has crippled my self esteem, self worth, and self love into a meager and measly self tolerance, which in reality seems more loathsome and derogatory than I’ve possibly ever been. The facade of rampant confidence and jovial optimistic smiles are hard to keep spread when my heart feels lacking and lazy.
Where is my joy? Not forced optimism, nor decisive attitude masquerading to hide my own desperation. The real and true joy I once had. The happiness and trust I’d be alright. I may live, I may breathe and have the necessities of life as a basic physical function…but beyond that, I am destitute for emotional growth, financial growth, spiritual growth.
I find my situation stunting my growth, as if I am but a tiny plant bending and reaching towards the sunshine but overcast skies and tall, tall trees are at every angle and I feel my roots drying up and my leaves recoiling in to myself.
I need to be replanted, replenished, tended to and pruning. I need rich soil on solid ground, rain from above and warmth, but instead I find the winter only growing colder.
A flower can not on its own escape the clay pot, but only pray hard that the gardener finds my fruit worth the transplantation to fertile ground.