A Month of Somedays

Somedays the chaos around you competes with the chaos within you but neither cancels the other out.

Somedays a book, a café, a pot of tea and snow outside is the nicest therapy. Don’t make me leave!

Somedays you realise that people care. A scary truth that you want to be worthy of. Strengthens the will to keep going.

Somedays the struggle takes shape and form and you communicate with it better. A bit at a time.

Somedays the weather reflects the mood.

Somedays friends mean more than they’ll ever know for not giving up on you when you think they should.

Somedays your heart is banging and no amount of activity clears the restlessness backlog.

Somedays the mist outside is thicker than the fog inside and that’s strangely reassuring.

Somedays you regret committing to a social event. You want to be alone despite feeling desperately lonely.

Somedays you realise there’s only about three people who don’t overwhelm you…and one of them is your therapist.

Somedays-anxiety. Anxiety. Anxiety. Bloody relentless.

Somedays your mind is bouncing so fast you have no idea if you’re really happy, shit scared or sinking down.

Somedays you need a hand to keep doing the uphill parts but it’s just too hard to ask for help.

Somedays it’s good to remember a bit at a time beats despairing at everything still to be done.

Somedays you realise how bad your anxiety usually is only when it’s giving you some blessed relief.

Somedays living in the present is equally uncomfortable as the past or future no matter what anyone says.

Somedays it takes so long to do one thing. It’s worth it but hard work to get there.

Somedays everything is just too much. Too much everything. Much too much.

Somedays adjusting to your reality and dropping the act means people see you as getting sicker.

Somedays-fear. Sitting in another waiting room wondering will it be yet another new doctor you’ll have to tell the story to.

Somedays nights are too long. Wide away and every inch restless. Tomorrow you’ll be wreaked.

Somedays no matter what you do, the world remains cold, empty and very, very unreal.

Somedays you learn in a positive way that you are not alone and that fighting on is really worth it.

Somedays the most bittersweet of memories hold tendrils of precious emotions.

Somedays no one gets how guilty you feel for being you and being this way. You need that one “I get it”.

Somedays you’re really up against it. You have to open up and talk. It’s the only way through. You hope you can.

Somedays, you hope.