Working on getting back to (fucked up) normal. Schedule sorted, still in all of my therapies, apartment tidied and (somewhat) repaired. Bruises and scabs multicolor ugly but fading, and I’ve actually eaten some meals.
I was getting ready for my day, doing all the right things. Had time to enjoy my coffee, do my whole skincare regime, even had time to shave. But when I looked into the mirror clean shaven, I still felt the depression continue to pour over me like rain. And the first thought I had was that I’m not so sure I’m going to survive this thing. Actually scares me.
Leave a comment