The Fray

No one likes to be seen at their worst. Not me. Not you. We don’t like to be seen in the unflattering light that sometimes chases us down. But I’m bathing in it, man. There is no escaping it. There is nothing but harsh, unforgiving light bearing down on me. All my flaws are out. But at least for tonight, I’m not trying to outrun it.

This is one of the hardest, if not the hardest time of my life. Sometimes depression and hopelessness hit me so hard I can’t move. I sit still, trying to gather myself, trying to pull the pieces together like a clumsy clown. Tears catch up with me at awkward, untimely moments. There is so much loss in this space, I lose my breath. I’m not the girl I was. 

My body, once strong and able, is now weak and fat- a total anomaly to me. I catch glimpses of myself in the mirror and I’m startled at what I see. Who. Is. This? Shakespear comes to mind, “O me! What fray was here?”  What fray indeed.

The loss of my team at work is almost unbearable. I’ll let you in on a secret. Mental health distress is a sneaky, silent bastard. I am still here because I have two children who need me. I am fighting every day to hold on to my corner of the world. It isn’t because I don’t feel loved. It isn’t because people haven’t been kind and supportive and amazing to me. It is because I don’t see a way out. I am stepping forward on blind faith that this life is worth living. Every day tests the theory. Every day is hard.

I know that sounds awful and I have a lot of guilt letting that out. I wanted me to be strong and happy and lovely, too. It’s nothing anyone did wrong, it’s just that I didn’t expect life to be this damn hard. These are hard lessons learned early on, I guess.

But something inside me is still whispering of hope. It’s a faint heartbeat that still pulses. A met with a friend today and she promised me it would get better. She also promised to help. It was a like touching a thread in the pitch blackness. I’m going to keep gliding my fingertips across that silky fine line taking steps of faith until the light appears again. Because maybe Will S. was right, “There is nothing good or bad, but thinking makes it so.”

I will be all right. I will.

Give ‘Em Hell. 

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