Where My Feet Are
Tonight, I do the best I can to quiet the thoughts.
Tonight, I do the best I can to quiet the thoughts.
Even if your body is rebelling against you, your mind is in chaos, and trauma has told you that you are too broken to be fixed—you make today better.
My point in telling you this story is to convey how I tried literally everything I could think of in order to rid myself of depression.
Every time I feel it, I panic. It comes swooping in, stormy and scary. It feels like I’m running from that rhino cloud in James and the Giant Peach.
It was how I survived. It’s what guided me out of that once endless maze; it’s the reason I’m still alive today.
Even when we don’t want to take another step. Even when our hearts hurt. Even when it feels like the phone never rings and no one cares, we are enough.
All signs point to joy. All calculations add up to delight. So why the hell do I feel so afraid and sad?
There are books to read, trips to travel, footprints to imprint in the ground. Your footprints.
Years after that first day when I was eight—on a day just as bright and clear—the world once again plunged into a meaningless gray. Only this time, it didn’t lift.
Anxiety has this really funny way of distorting not only what you see, but how you see, and I was seeing myself only as an extra in everyone else’s lives...
I would love to believe that it only goes up from here, but things are rarely so perfect.
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