All I have is where I am

It’s five AM and I can’t sleep. I’ve been awake for hours, asleep for too few. Lying in bed, listening to the sounds of a sleeping house, my thoughts are spinning wildly around my head, in time to the pounding of my heart. I can feel the tug of panic waiting to be let in. I should get up and make a drink, but the world still feels like it’s spinning and if I move I might fall off. So I lay here and think.

I’ve been trying to run away this week. Been trying to escape from myself. Yearning for a place of peace, a place where I don’t have to think or feel anymore. When I’m in this headspace, it feels impossible to see the other side. One bad day follows another, as I’m stuck inside my mind, forgetting all along that I hold the key to the door. Too caught up in yesterday’s failings, I keep on letting them shape my today. All I have is right now. This place where I am. Guilt and shame will only keep me stuck in yesterday.

Where do I want to be? I’m not sure, but I know I don’t want to be here forever. It’s hard to envision being some place else when you’ve lost hope of the sun rising again. When you can put back on the facade so easily, and hide behind a smile and almost convince yourself that you feel fine, letting go of trying to convince the world you’re OK and just being where you are is a scary prospect.

I’m trying to find my way out of this tangled forest in the pitch black, feeling lost and hopeless and vulnerable. Tired of feeling like I don’t measure up, tired of beating myself up and holding myself back. Enough of using yesterday’s failure as a reason to not try today.

All I have is where I am.

This is a fresh new day. Another chance to start afresh. To right the wrongs, to wipe clean the slate. To mold the future into what I want. To use the sadness and anger and hurt that others have given me to create a better world. Another day one, but one day that day one will be the last day one.

Perhaps I need to snap the measuring stick in half, I’m never going tick the ‘perfect’ box that my head tells me I need to, for the goalposts are forever moving and perfect is just a facade. Life is messy and messy doesn’t have to be a bad thing.

I am more than a number on a scale. More than the choices I have made. More than all my past mistakes.

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