Sunday, June 16, 2013
Sometimes, I reflect on the huge strides I've made and think, "Wow, is this really me? Am I truly and finally kicking depression's ass?" Then days like this hit me like a Mack Truck and I realize that this process, this fucking battle, NEVER ends. Some days, I am the girl who is fighting and seemingly winning and then, out of the blue, the house of cards that I've so carefully crafted comes crashing down around me and I am a bawling mess like I am right now. Slights, real and imagined, cut me to the quick and I find myself back beneath the bell jar, looking up and out and wondering if the moments of peace and clarity and, dare I say, joy, were the illusion and this hideous state, my reality. Needless to say, the pain that I keep dodging and weaving to avoid always seems to find me. I guess the trick is to realize that the pain, like the joy, is temporary, that the clouds will lift and that in time, I will once again see the sun. Where's that magic when I need it?