By Ramblings of Ruin
I wake up with panic perched on my chest. Rolling over I try to shake it off, try to dive back under the blanket of unconsciousness, but it’s done… I’m awake.
Instead of getting up I lie in bed for another hour, and as my anxiety mounts the beginning of a headache starts to scratch at the inside of my skull.
This is how a lot of my mornings start. The day stretches ahead of me like an insurmountable relay of endless tasks that I have neither the energy nor the desire to tackle.
I am now faced with a choice. I can stay in bed, call in sick, wallow in my misery and ultimately feel worse for it, or I can get up. I can eat breakfast and shower (and more than likely cry while doing so) and force myself out the door.
I can choose to try and fight this stupid thing inside my head, and yes, it will be difficult and, yes I will be in pain… but I am in pain anyway. Whether I stay in bed or not, everything sucks.
After fighting through the day (and having to hide the war that is raging inside my head from everyone I work with) I am overwhelmed by the fact that I have to do it all again tomorrow. What kind of life is this?
I walk home and an ambulance whizzes noisily past me. I’m ashamed to admit that my first thought is: “I wish I were in it.” I’m so tired of fighting. I want to give up. I can’t though…
Something inside just won’t let me throw in the towel, and it’s what I cling to on days like this. It’s what I draw strength from (albeit, minimal) on days when I can’t seem to run out of tears, on days when my head won’t stop hurting or stay quiet.
I think this thing is called courage. It isn’t a loud or strong thing. It sits quietly in my heart; it is tiny and gasping for air… but there it sits all the same.
“You will not surrender!” it says. “Not today.”
Reproduced with permission, originally published here
If you enjoyed this article please share it using the buttons below…