and breathing

I’ve been trying to reclaim parts of myself I lost in the slump. routine constructs tasks and timeframes and gradually I have risen to the occasion more often than not. it takes time. I lean on support where I find it, and count myself lucky each day. waking up is easier more often than it has been. a little caffeine helps.

I try to write and draw and think critically about why it is I am here and how I should spend my time. this can sometimes lead nowhere, and I wind up feeling worse than I would have without trying in the first place. other times I look at the ink I’ve left on the page and can see value in the time I’ve spent there.

at the rally they talk about humanity and compassion and the end of the world. I see clips on my phone of the death and the horror we are capable of causing to one another. I try to wrap my head around the fact that I buy cartons of milk as hospitals are brought to the ground in flames. the very act of participating in this human project feels more superficial and morally incomprehensible the more I see of the suffering beyond my own narrow lens.

I live days in my dreams with people from every world I’ve ever known. unanswered questions are asked and resolved, only to be revealed as the crux of imagined encounters that never happened. there are people I miss, once treasured friends and faces I might never see again. in the sadness of their memory I try to count myself lucky to have crossed paths in another plane.

I live and do a little more now. I go to work and trivia and see friends sometimes. before bed I brush my teeth and think about where I want to be, though not enough to make me upset. giving therapy another go. thinking and breathing and getting out of bed. one day at a time. <<

still here

some progress. some tears. I try to remember how to do things that once came easy. leaning every day on people I love. Mum bought me a book to record what I’m grateful for each day. I run through the park and get away from myself for a little while. sometimes I eat a lot of chocolate. I try to stay in touch with friends and not miss those I can’t see too much. sometimes I try to draw. I’ve been home and back. I go places every night in my dreams. familiar faces all the time. different lives. adventures that never were but always feel real enough for a moment. sometimes I wish they’d last.

still here. still incapable of pulling words to really capture what it is I feel about waking each day to more. trying.

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