Everyday little things take so much energy out of me.
I barely have enough to do the bare minimum then I’m spent.
I’m forcing myself to function.
I’m going through the motions while little glimmers of my non-depressed self peak through every now and then.
I’m trying not to be too demanding of myself.
I want to accomplish things, get things done, but putting those self imposed expectations just overwhelms me.
I find myself asking why things feel so big and taxing, then I remind myself, this is normal because you are depressed.
And that’s okay.
One step at a time.
I’m at a low level depression.
I no longer fantasize about laying in bed all day.
I’m okay around people, it’s just so much work.
Doing anything that I don’t want to do feels intolerable, more than usual.
Usually I can suck it up and plow through, right now I find myself avoiding and getting anxious.
The desire to run and hide is always close by.
I can’t shake the deep sense of loneliness that has settled in my bones.
When everything stops and the world is quiet, that’s when it’s the worst.
I actively fight those demons, the ones that whisper hopeless and self pitying nothings into my ear.
This too, is exhausting.
I still see color.
The world has not gone grey for me yet.
I’m getting better, but it lingers.
Much like a persistent cough.
True to myself, I’m fighting.
Always the fighter.
I’ve been fighting this battle for years.
I have always given credit to my ex for stabilizing me.
But I realize now that while she gave me the support and nurture I desperately needed, it was I who did the work.
It was always me doing the slaying.
I see that now that I’m on my own.
My friend Olivia told me that I’m much stronger, smarter, and powerful than I think.
I know she’s right.
This reminds me that I’m a giant with a sprained ankle.
A sequoia swaying in the wind.
A dying Phoenix becoming ash.
A caged lion.
I am beautifully made and whole, even in my brokenness.
Maybe especially because of it.
Be here now, Samantha.
Find the rainbow.