Holding On and Letting Go

Let me just preface by saying that this was written when I was in a bad place (I am much, much better now). I had a shitty day and this is how I chose to cope.

The hardest part of desire is wanting what can never be given. You tell yourself that the impossible is, indeed, possible. That finality does not wield all the power. We believe that we can change an outcome if we pray long enough or cry enough tears or tell ourselves that what is gone can be retrieved. The loss of life, the news of death… The impending sicknesses that seem to poison our mind and chest.

Rock bottom looks different for everyone. It dons its own clothing, wears its own mask, sings its own tune.

And mine is fast approaching.

I can’t explain when it first took hold of my personal vicinity. One day there was hope, and the next day there wasn’t. Sure, there were moments in between where my optimism fell flat, but I was always able to breathe some life back into it.

I just don’t have the energy anymore. I have exhausted everything that I have to give. The tears, the hope, the willpower, the strength. All of those things have been dangling from a rope for a very long time.

Just writing this right now, on the way to my car, has me teetering on the idea of fully breaking down and letting myself go. Do I allow all of my pent up emotions to spill out or do I keep them locked inside of an over-filled box?

My plate is getting too heavy to hold, and I’m losing the skills to keep it afloat. I just need the world to keep still for even a day so that I can have the opportunity to breathe. To fully immerse myself in the process of trying to put together what has been broken.

I can only hope to one day understand the birth of my depression and why it lingers for the duration that it does. Why it grips my heart with such force that I lose myself in my own body. I don’t want to suffer like this for the rest of my life. The constant sickness, the unpredictable grief. I want to wear the soles of my shoes so thin with happiness. I think I deserve that.

That little girl in the photo with the pursed lips set in the duck position was not filled with debilitating pain. All she knew was drinking bottles of milk and sticking germ-ridden toys in her mouth. She hadn’t yet gotten her heart shattered.

I ask that you take a moment to read this quote I stumbled upon. It might just be what you needed to hear today.

Mental health problems don’t define who you are. They are something you experience. You walk in the rain and you feel the rain, but you are not the rain.

Matt Haig

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