The rain will pass

I’m not okay. And that’s okay.

I keep telling myself that. Recovery isn’t linear. There are twists and bends, and hills and mountains to climb. Some days the only climbing I can do is out of bed, anything else is too much.

I’ve shrunk my world back down to my own four walls, to my own four people. Anything else is too much. Building a bubble back around myself so I can heal. The black cloud depression of depression is suffocating right now, my anxiety rears it’s head every time I step outside the front door.

Today I feel small. Feel trapped inside my mind. Afraid of living, afraid of dying. Afraid of no more days, yet afraid of too many more days.

I am still here. And this too shall pass.

For now, all I can do is sit and try and ride it out.

I am bruised and I am broken. After a false start over the summer, when I thought I was past the worst, I fell back down with a bump. Crashed and burned, and so I’m sitting in the dark, clinging to the shred of hope that is still somehow there that maybe, just maybe, one day I can be free.

There have been so many lessons learned this year, in letting go, in reaching out, in trust, in keeping your head above water. After a lifetime of other people abusing me, letting me down, abandoning me, you’d think I’d have learned the signs by now. Yet I through my trust on someone, to find they were no different. I’ll never understand how someone can do the very thing that they know will destroy you? How someone can win your trust, let you confide your deepest, darkest secrets in them, and then throw it all back in your face.

I’ve come to the realisation that maybe I need to not reach out, not lay my cards out on the table, not put my trust in another person. I need to be alone. Need to find solace inside me, to reel it all back in, to find a way of keeping going, plastering that smile back on my face and faking the okay-ness again.

Nothing seems right, nothing seems okay. Everything feels foreign and disconnected from reality. I feel completely and utterly finished. Fed up and fragile.

Tomorrow is another day. The rain will pass. I’ll try again ?

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