I did all this brainstorming trying to come up with a really cool/interesting 300th post, but this is what it's gonna be. I was and am really reluctant to post this because I feel like I'm being a debbie downer, but this is me.
Yesterday I got out of bed once. I spent the vast majority of the day in tears freaking out about all kinds of things. It was like the first worry woke up the melancholy and then the clouds settled in, the rains came and the waters rose and I was trapped. Days like that make me want to sleep indefinitely...
As someone who has had her own dance with depression, I'm always hyper vigilant when it comes to fighting against its familiar pull. But yesterday... I wanted to welcome the quiet of giving up. The peace of the bottom. The silence of putting my weapons down and letting the waters swallow me whole. I could feel it. The weightlessness and cold of disconnection.
*sigh* But for some reason I can't not fight it. I get tired. I think about drinking half a bottle of benadryl and spending my time glazed over... I think about burning and deepening old scars... I think about driving with my eyes closed or walking out in the street.
But I'm fighting all these things.
My mom prayed with me yesterday that I would be able to focus on the good things. But sometimes the discouragement and the bad gets so big that everything is overshadowed and no matter what good things I recite they don't make a dent. So I end up crying to God please help me. Praying and hoping for a break. Do You really have plans for me or am I just adrift in a sea of 7 billion other faces all calling to You with 7 billion other problems?
Last night I had 'Holes' by Passenger on repeat. I painted this. It's kinda what I'm always telling myself... Everyone's got some struggle, but we carry on.
Yesterday I barely made it out of bed... Today I did, but the feelings are the same. Small victories I guess.