So Once Again I Struggle Against Myself.

Anyone who knows me knows that I have an Anxiety Disorder. It is not a secret, and I am not ashamed. It helps make me a Teacher, and an Artist and a Woman that I hope people can be proud to know.

That being said, sometimes it is difficult, and exhausting, and an indescribable struggle. Today is on of those days, and so I wrote this, and I decided to share it, because if it can help one person then it is worth it, so feel free to read, and share it to those people you think may benefit from it. Please don’t worry about me, I will be fine, but this is how I am choosing to try to heal myself on this cold, snowy night.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —Some days the lights are on, you live, you breathe, and you are a real girl. You hear their voices, so clearly. You can lock IT out. But you always know it’s there. IT rattles the door knob and makes the hinges creak. Some days IT gets in. Some days you can slide the deadbolt and hear that reassuring click, and know you are safe.

Some days the lights are off and you have a flashlight. These days you only exist. On these days you are not a real girl, you are a puppet dragged by strings, and you can feel IT. IT stands along the edges where your flashlight beam can’t reach. IT stretches, uncurls ad presses in around you. On these days you hold your flashlight tight, look straight ahead and try to listen for the voices, faint but enough to hold onto.

Some days there is no power, and your flashlight batteries are missing. You know from all the other days where the light switch should be, but you can’t get there. You know from being told a million times what tools you should use to get there, but it doesn’t matter. Today none of them work. You listen for the voices, but it’s just noise, meaningless. Like trying to hear underwater. And it doesn’t matter because IT has wrapped itself around you, suffocating you, drowning you. Wrapping its clever tendrils around everything that makes you exist. And you don’t exist anymore because IT is you, and you are IT. You can’t fight IT, and so you admit defeat, you lay down and pray for IT to destroy you, because that is the only way IT will stop.

Sure, tomorrow may be dark,

Or you may have a flashlight,

Or the lights may be on.

But what does it matter when IT is still there?

Ready and waiting to break down the door.