Facts
I don’t need to always see the light or carry this burden myself.
Topic: recovery
I don’t need to always see the light or carry this burden myself.
There’s no way to deny it—this year is different. As we welcome May and Mental Health Month, we’re not only addressing the very thing our work centers on, but there’s also talk about a pandemic, an uncertain future, and physical distancing.
With everything that is happening in the world right now, I feel my depression starting to resurface—it’s waking up with a vengeance as I physically isolate.
The thing is, my scars—what should be a sign of healing, perseverance, and survival—can be the most triggering thing.
Even the deepest and darkest parts of my mind know that I am not a burden. The amount of space I require will never change that.
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.
I would love to believe that it only goes up from here, but things are rarely so perfect.
Come on decades of therapy, do your thing. Come on endless sessions in rehab, remind me that I am more than my rage.
During my second stay in rehab, there was a mantra that I clung to: You are worthy. You are enough. You are loved.
The good exists even if it’s small, silly, or invisible.
I’m here today for a lot of reasons, but TWLOHA is certainly one of them.
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