If we were meeting for drinks I’d order a shot of tequila and a Corona, then I’d look at you and say, “Trust me, I’ve earned it.” After the waiter took both of our orders I would promise I won’t have any more shots because yes, I know liquor doesn’t sit well with my meds. Continue reading
She’s a fighter, they say, been on the front lines in the battles against her own mind for many years. She’s been fortunate despite her illness, though, comes from a loving and supportive family. They say she’s better now, the depression is under control and she’s on the right track. They all talk about how much she’s grown and the things she’s accomplished in recent years. She thinks it’s nice they’re proud of her.
She’s gotten better at presenting well and hiding her emotions, most of the time. She will tell you she is better at managing her emotions, most of the time she is. She still feels it gnawing at the edges of her sanity, an inexplicable fear and sadness scratching her smooth surface. She’s sure you can see it if you look into her eyes, but she’s not sure anyone is looking closely enough. They see what they want to see, she tries to feel what they want her to feel – she wants to feel it, too.
She tries to tell them she doesn’t feel right, that the edges are crumbling and the walls are closing in. They tell her she’s fine, this is what real life feels like. She questions herself and she questions them; after all, real life to her is different than real life to them. She wonders if feeling nothing and fearing everything is what real life is supposed to be like. They say to stay the course. They tell her to hold on and she’ll make it – welcome to the real world.
She wants to believe she can be free from the traps her mind sets so cleverly. She wants to be sure she’s not slipping back into the depths of depression’s grasp. She struggles to see clearly; feels weighted down, lethargic, and often teary. Uninspired, disenchanted, and restless, the days drag by endlessly. She uses all strategies in combating these unwelcome symptoms of her disease. She is a fighter, she refuses to let this battle be her defeat.
They say she’s better now, they say the depression is at bay. She says it depends on how you measure what ‘better’ is. She’ll tell you she’s fought enough to know she’s stronger now, but the depression is never far enough away. She’s learned the hard way that they don’t understand the intensity of her feelings and that’s okay. They love her, she thinks it’s nice they want her to be happy – even if they don’t look too closely.
Let me start by saying I am most grateful that this week is OVER. It has been a whirlwind of emotions and activity, most of which was overstimulating and overwhelming. BUT, it ended in the most wondrous way and for that I am also very thankful.
Feeling safe is one of the most important aspects of a person’s life. We do all sorts of things to protect ourselves from harm. We buy alarm systems for our homes and cars, we lock our doors and windows, take defense training classes, we carry weapons of all shapes and sizes, we depend on our government and police to keep us safe, and we incarcerate those we deem unsafe (for example). But what happens when fear seeps through the cracks in our fences and over the walls we’ve built up so high? What do we do when the thing(s) that scares us isn’t tangible but comes from within us? Continue reading
Settling into a quiet Saturday after a very busy week, my mind is aflutter and I can’t quite concentrate my thoughts. I fear this space wherein I rarely show my face anymore, also known as my blog, is collecting dust and my words are becoming meaningless. The flow I had become accustomed to is no longer flowing but instead withering in a mind that doesn’t play fairly. Continue reading