️Rainy Days

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..


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