Perhaps
The hardest thing I have had to learn in life is that I am fine the way I am. I do not have to make sense out of who I am or what I have become. I am not dependent on my achievements of goals nor am I to be burdened by any other’s fleeting approval or their acknowledgement of my existence.
I say, I have had to learn, but honestly I think that somehow I haven’t learned a thing. I keep circling around that idea like it is some foreign concept. It takes just one second, one comment, one bad moment for me to lose all that I have learned in life and convince myself that I am not fine the way I am.
Last week I felt the waves of depression covering me like a blanket. Reaching out to those who you know will hold on to you, keep you from slipping deeper into the hole that has been dug finds me empty handed. I wandered aimlessly through the day; going through motions that had become nothing more than patterns, methodical patterns those that have little change.
I lost all desire. I am overwhelmed, I am sad, I am in pain, I am confused, I can not make sense out of who I am or what I have become.
There is a point where I will reach out for help. Help comes in many forms. Sometimes the words are all I need to hear, sometimes it is just a memory coming back to haunt me. Sometimes the point is made by nothing more than exhaustion of an over extended mind. I know when I am in trouble; I know there is no more green, it is time for a different color.
I have finally relented. I faced the demon that lives inside my head and asked for help. It takes a great deal of struggle not to follow through with my carefully thought out plan and cease to exist. Mornings are the most difficult in my fighting off the urges to just curl into a ball tight enough to cut off the circulation of my life giving oxygen. I wonder about the pain it would bring and the mystery that would forever follow my name, if my children were to find me forever sleeping.
So, I uncurl myself and I breathe, I come here and I think and I write and somehow the minutes pass and I am still alive.
I say, I have had to learn, but honestly I think that somehow I haven’t learned a thing. I keep circling around that idea like it is some foreign concept. It takes just one second, one comment, one bad moment for me to lose all that I have learned in life and convince myself that I am not fine the way I am.
Last week I felt the waves of depression covering me like a blanket. Reaching out to those who you know will hold on to you, keep you from slipping deeper into the hole that has been dug finds me empty handed. I wandered aimlessly through the day; going through motions that had become nothing more than patterns, methodical patterns those that have little change.
I lost all desire. I am overwhelmed, I am sad, I am in pain, I am confused, I can not make sense out of who I am or what I have become.
There is a point where I will reach out for help. Help comes in many forms. Sometimes the words are all I need to hear, sometimes it is just a memory coming back to haunt me. Sometimes the point is made by nothing more than exhaustion of an over extended mind. I know when I am in trouble; I know there is no more green, it is time for a different color.
I have finally relented. I faced the demon that lives inside my head and asked for help. It takes a great deal of struggle not to follow through with my carefully thought out plan and cease to exist. Mornings are the most difficult in my fighting off the urges to just curl into a ball tight enough to cut off the circulation of my life giving oxygen. I wonder about the pain it would bring and the mystery that would forever follow my name, if my children were to find me forever sleeping.
So, I uncurl myself and I breathe, I come here and I think and I write and somehow the minutes pass and I am still alive.