October 13, 2024
On the other side of whatever this fresh hellish discomfort is, I desperately hope, there is some sort of reprieve. That within reach is a rope that isn’t frayed that I can use to pull myself out and up. And then a bed with a pillow that holds and transforms my most harmful of thoughts into a healing wash that removes the urge to just stop being… me.
It’s been an intense week. I don’t fully understand what is happening to me. I don’t ever remember feeling this powerless. That my will can stare me down and spit in my face, and tell me I’m nothing. That I get why someone would do almost anything to escape the bullying thoughts that push toward despair.
I hate feeling like my head is an empty shell echoing the belief that I will never be good enough for anyone, but especially me.
Every nerve in my body twists, stretches, and snaps under the tension of my thoughts.
I’m in the thickest of fogs. I reach past a few thin wisps of wetness. I at least have that much strength. Nothing is presenting itself. I try my other hand – nothing. But my ears pick up on what sounds like waves and voices. My breath automatically mimics the waves ebb and flow. The voices become clearer. I am not alone.
Things I am learning to accept:
I am strong
I am creative
I can learn from my mistakes
I am a good parent
I have support
I don’t have to be what I think others think I should be
I am okay with being tired
I am disabled
fighting reality 