One breath at a time
Rain lashed against the window, mimicking the storm brewing inside me. The rhythmic drumming was the only sound that pierced the heavy silence of my apartment. The sheets tangled around me felt like a suffocating embrace. Each breath I took was a struggle, the air thick with a nameless despair. Everything felt pointless. Scrolling through my phone, the curated snapshots of other people’s lives flickered across the screen — carefree laughter, vacations, milestones celebrated. A bitter pang of envy twisted in my gut. Where had I gone wrong?
The insidious thought, the one I usually fought tooth and nail, slithered in — maybe it would all be easier if I just stopped fighting. The darkness felt like a familiar embrace, promising a strange kind of peace. Guilt, a familiar companion, was strangely absent this time.
But then, a voice, quiet but insistent, rose from the depths. It was a voice I hadn’t heard in a while, a voice that whispered, “It’s okay to not be okay.” A wave of relief washed over me. I wasn’t broken, I was hurting. There was a difference.
The mountain I had to climb suddenly seemed less daunting. Maybe for today, “getting better” just meant acknowledging the pain, letting the tears flow freely. Just one step at a time. With a herculean effort, I reached for my water bottle, the cold metal a grounding touch. Taking a deep breath, shuddering as it scraped against my raw throat, I forced myself to sit up. Small victories, I reminded myself.
The world outside continued its relentless assault of rain, but a tiny spark of hope flickered within me. The darkness might linger, but dawn would come eventually. For now, existing was enough. And maybe, just maybe, tomorrow, I could take another small step towards the light.
