I know before my eyes open those first seconds of coming alert before opening my eyes, it’s raining. My eyelids feel sprained and eyes hot and scratchy, I feel instant chest pressure of sadness being right on the surface. Every morning I choose to stay in recovery I take bubble packs full of antipyschotics and antidepressants to just have any quality of life. Because of this I wake up everyday feeling like Im hungover from a bender. That pain is real muscles ache, skin hurts, can’t brush my hair it feels like someone pulled it all night. If I don’t sit up and I mean make myself get up, no excuses just up. It may take a few hours till I can function ok. ️Rainy days always say sad to me, dark and yucky everything is just dull as is my senses.
All day I know tears sit on the surface, watery blurry vision same as watching the rain run down glass. Those skeletons try to escape when my heart is volnerable, I do as I’m told after 20 years of therapy to just survive the first 16 of fuckery.. I’ve learned that avoiding them only make them stronger so I take a moment feel the memory, see it all over, surrender to it cause it sucks, cry it, look At it and overcome it. Tuck it in again move on by taking a step forward chin up. This is torture but necessary. Will it ever not break my heart? Will I ever have any closure? Will I ever be free? No!
the only coping skills I have is to be busier than my thoughts. Distractions. I find the repeat actions of my many rituals to be soothing. Do I want to sit in the shower crying and dragging that releasing blade, yes. Do I stare at my husbands rye and wish I could drink it all, absolutely! Do I, have I? No. The faces of my children are greater and mean more to me than any 8 ball I’m craving all these years later. I can only breathe and take each feeling and moment one minute at a time.
may there be so many more good days than bad, may there be more peace than torture. MAy today’s rain bring spring flowers
May today just be..