Battling the Beast

Holy cow. From the intensity of my last post and the gap between then and now, you must think that I am either dead or institutionalized.

Fear not, my internet friends; I am alive and kicking—although sometimes it feels more like kicking and screaming. This anxiety and depression stuff is hard core. It is the biggest battle of my life. At times I feel completely lost and defeated, wondering if I have enough faith and stamina to make it through. I miss myself. I miss my laugh and my sense of reason. I miss being able to wear mascara, knowing it will not spend the day running down my cheeks and merging with a stream of boogers.

Other times (on my good days), however, I understand that this adversity is actually a monumental blessing. I have opportunity for growth, here. Lucky me!

The trick of it is accepting what is and finding joy and peace despite my struggles. This is harder than how it sounds. My brain can be telling me all sorts of rational, soothing things. Meanwhile, my body is telling me that I am in danger and that I am dying. On any given day I have enough adrenaline coursing through my veins to fuel a rocket ship to the moon. Trying to find joy while internalizing my imminent death is difficult.

But possible.

I am in the process of reclaiming myself. I have felt prompted, time and time again, that writing is an important tool (one of many) for my healing. Today I feel like obeying that prompting. I cannot promise consistency, I can only give what I have and some days I don’t have much, but I can promise honesty. And humor. And good stories. I’ll see you when I see you.