A memory came to me during a walk today....
Once I walked just off the pavement
The local park slash water reclamation site
Wasn't prepared for such a horde of teens
To walk beside each other I dove into the rough
I slipped on dog shit
Feel flat on my back with the breath kicked out of my lungs
Tears came but they weren't sure why
Was I sad? Was I hurt? Was I-
I laughed. My embarrassment blended
With a cheerful flush of belly laughs and
deep sucked breaths
A boy fell in love with me that day,
in just that moment.
He told me weeks later.
The girl he was with, she would never have laughed
Somehow I was a girl worth wanting
When I slipped in that shit.
I was loveable.
Today was a different sort of walk. The air was perfectly chilled, the sun warm between gusts of chilly autumn wind but my walk wasn't pleasant. My limbs were heavy and lurching, my eyes cast down, my brain in shadows. I cried. I sobbed. I gasped for air and understanding.
I told my husband how the bad thoughts were back, how I didn't think I would see our son learn to ride a bike like the cheerful children that passed us on the path. I told him how angry I was at my family. That I felt as if they had saddled me with so many problems, claimed to want to help me, and then disappeared and disappointed me like so many times before. I told him it felt like I was back in the blackness that I was dwelling in before inpatient. That this past month was just a distraction, not his so-called progress.
I could hear the falsehoods, the stain of depression on my words, but I had to say them, because part of me believes it all. A big part of me. It feels those horrible things, they become true in my hijacked mind. I have to let them out or they will kill me. Hell, it feels as if all those terrible thoughts will kill me even when I shed light on them.
I am hurting. Hurting like I've hurt so many times before. Wishing for a reprieve. Wishing for a different life, reality, existence. I can't see the way out, but I'm told there is one. I just have to wait until the wind shifts and it is revealed to me again. When my heart can look up and out again, and is ready to see, and the winds are right, I will find my way out. Once and again. And again.
Ugh. It's hot chocolate o'clock. Less thinking, more being.
Wishing everyone happier Sundays than mine has been so far. And good grief, let's hope the Hawks win.