(It is #77) What the hell am I doing? I rarely cuss. I hate it, to be honest. If it leaves my mouth, my patience is fried. I may be there today. I watched a movie early this morning. A sappy love film. "How long have you been married? Do you really even know who …
Is this a meltdown of sorts? For the first time in my life, I am crying out to myself- not a doctor, not family, not even God. I am internally wailing at myself to wake up, to feel, to live. Yet, I have zero response in me.
Then without warning, I disappeared.
There is darkness in information overload, constant debating turned confrontation and reading the barrage of opinions and rude remarks. We listen, unpack, then regurgitate it back to the masses. All the while, filling our thoughts with worldly nonsense in a brain not capable of holding more. Processing is a function that tires you out. If you don't prioritize your ideas, you will lose ground in mental clarity and stability.
Where something beautiful should be, lies a vacant space only filled with the waste of pain. Years of abuse scavenged every last bit of light—a broken mind from a broken heart.
"I'm doing all I can to get through my own struggle."
Depression is relentless. We struggle to overcome, and it fights to defeat us. The pursuit of our mind is that of a hunter and it's prey.
The experts disagree, the politicians disagree, local and state municipalities disagree, and we are stuck in the middle.
Mental illness and stay at home orders.
Maybe my lesson is the one you need today. Maybe your pain is still holding you down, even to the point of wrapping itself around your throat and constricting every breath you take.