It’s been a little scary being left alone with my thoughts.
I felt myself beginning to spiral right before the cold hit.
It’s happened enough times to recognise the feelings – that weight it suddenly feels like I’m carrying around. The utter exhaustion it results in.
It’s like standing in the shallows of a calm beach when all of a sudden a huge swell forms. You can’t move to get out of the way though, you can only stand there. Watch the wave form and wait for it to dump with all it’s might. Only then can you move, and only to fight your way back up to the surface from that disorienting spinning spiral downwards.
I’m never able to say if I preferred the before when I didn’t see them coming or now, when I can.
There isn’t anything you can do to prepare. You just have to brace yourself for the fight.
It’s devastatingly difficult to stay strong when the insecurities you usually manage to keep somewhat in check suddenly have the ability to scream so loudly.
They’re so loud, and they’re so mean.
It’s so hard to keep composed when the weight no longer feels like your own, but one you’re suddenly passing on to everyone around you too.
My automatic instinct is to push them all away – I guess it’s an attempt to protect them from having to wear the burden that is me while I’m thrashing around trying to survive. I’m trying to work out how to fight that instinct too – to talk through what is going on instead.
The shame is so strong though.
We all deal with life. Why do I struggle so much?
How do I explain that I’m drowning, when I have so much all around me to be grateful for? Why isn’t that enough to stop this?
I feel so isolated and disconnected.
I’ve lost the ability to see my value anywhere.
Work is going through some changes – change always gets to me. I haven’t been happy there lately – it can be such an awful place to be and I often find myself wondering if it’s me.
Alex is going through a phase and I don’t know how to help him. I have no idea how to snap him out of it.
The big kids have their own mum..
B does so well with the littlest mini – I leave so early in the morning, would it really be so different if I weren’t around at all? The life I picture without me in it seems so much easier.
So much brighter.
My thoughts have been so dark and so intrusive they’ve been almost impossible to get under control.
This wave has hit so hard.
Life ebbs and flows, but this.. It’s the darkest place I’ve found myself in a few years.
My cold hit and I suddenly didn’t have as much energy to fight with.
I’ve been filling the silence with music to drown out the thoughts that keep getting too close to the surface.
I’m not happy.
I haven’t written in almost a month. I’ve been putting off because I’m not sure where the words are going to go. I’ve been afraid of what it might mean to stop drowning out the thoughts long enough to get them down onto a page.
I don’t know how I got here.
It’s been a startling reminder that depression never really goes away.
It’s always there.
Lurking in the shadows waiting for a crack to slip through.
There have been enough years that I know I can get to the other side of this though.
Enough of these waves to know this will pass.
Enough dark days to know that no matter how long they seem, the light is always there waiting on the other side – I just have to hold on long enough to get there.
That knowledge doesn’t make this any less scary though.
It catches me off guard every time and hits me like a train.
It’s such a lost feeling.
No direction, just thrashing around fighting for air.
I’m fighting though.
I’m talking through it.
I’m getting up.
I’m messaging back.
I’m answering the phone.
I’m saying kind things to myself in the mirror, over the top of the insecurities screaming hate at my reflection.
It’s getting easier to get on top of my thoughts and change their direction.
The fog is lifting – slowly, but it’s progress.
I know it’s there – that light I’m looking for.
I’ll get to it.