Day 5
My fear: the depression that’s been tailgating me since July will soon fully overtake me and losing my grandfather will send me into an eternal tailspin of mental illness. Melodramatic? Probably. I’m rational (and spiritual) so I know this too shall pass and that there is no forever when it comes to feelings and emotional states. There’s no forever when it comes to anything, really. But I’ve also gone through years of depression, my body sunk into its dark despair, my nervous system stuck in survival mode, my thoughts rooted in self-loathing, while the me hibernating inside all this barely lived through each day. As I write these words I know the truth: I have done serious work to be where I am now. I am more self-aware, I have practice taking loving care of myself, and I’m also (for the most part) rooted in self-respect and self-love, not self-destructive loathing. My fear, though irrational, does have some basis in personal experience. Just flipping through an old journal from my twenties, even early thirties, and I’m reminded of this hopelessness. And it does visit me still. I’m honoring the fear-feeling but also recognizing it for what it is: untrue. I am not where I used to be. That wouldn’t even be possible.
There’s another part to this post and I wanted to finish it tonight. But at 7pm I’m done with this day. I am past exhausted, in mind and body. So I will leave the hope piece for tomorrow, knowing that there is always hope and faith to eclipse the fear.
Published by lunargirl27
I am a writer and an artist, a teacher and a swing dancer (and a lover of all dancing); a woman who loves to dig in the dirt, talk to the flowers and sleep with the trees. I am an eternal student. Though I consider myself an introvert, my passion is finding true connection with others. I have lived with life-long chronic illness, and continue to struggle both with physical health issues, and bouts of depression and anxiety, sometimes debilitating. I am still reconciling my past with its effect on my present; learning to love the little girl who is still me, the one who carries our trauma. And I am finally, FINALLY, starting to know what loving myself actually feels like (less like an article in a self-help magazine, more like a loving expansiveness of self and a union with others. I don't like that description at all, but for now I'll let it be. This will kill my perfectionist). I'm here because I want to share my experience, strength, and hope. Not because I want to save or fix you, but because I hope you will see a reflection of your own strength and ability to heal in my words. The bad news is that no one will do this hard, at times painful, self-exploratory work for you. It's a humbling process. The good news is that you are capable of seeking help, and you deserve the love, support, and understanding that will help you heal. I acknowledge here, my privilege of having access to emotional support resources. I know I am one of the lucky ones. Though we cannot see each other, I know a little piece of you, just as you know a little piece of me. Our stories may be different, but we understand a shared pain. Though the specifics belong to each of us alone, our healing comes from also being able to see the similarities. This is how we break out of our isolation. And even if none of this helps you, maybe something here will lead you to a path that can offer you some hope and healing.
Reach out anytime, I would love to hear from you.
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my body speaks 