It sounds kinda lame now that I read it, but I’ll tell you why this is an achievement for me.
You see, behind this pale blue fontface and earthy “this is my garden”, post, there’s this big black (as in color of its inky dripping fur, not ancestry) monster that creeps on me. There are thousands of little strings attached to me, my limbs and further my emotions and every day I can repeat that stupid little mantra that everything will be okay, is another day I kick that monster in its shaved gorilla balls and save the cake princess and by extension, have a good day.
I also call that monster depression.
Now at first he wasn’t that bad. It was when I had my first high stress job that he decided “hey, I’ll just put these strings here and… yeah, theere we go. Ignore your responsibilities.” I was miserable. I had a physical aversion to work that made me so sick I ended up with walking pneumonia and furthered how bad my chronic bronchitis had hit me that year. Panic attacks, resulting in me literally curling up in my bed for days at a time and calling in sick to work.
I wish I could say that it got better after I quit, and began working retail. It really didn’t. I reached the heaviest I’d ever been… and I honestly lost sight of what I even wanted anymore. I had never known but it was bad enough then that I stopped caring.
One day, about a year after I had made it out of call center hell, I actually looked at myself and saw that monster standing behind me. The worst part was just how much he had grown and how badly he had gotten his strings under my skin and made it impossible to do anything unless he let me.
“Unless he let me.” I hated thinking it. I hated almost everything I had done up until that day. I wasn’t living anymore. I was waiting to die.
I was able to cut one of the biggest threads the beast had on me that morning, and I went and had an hour long tattoo session.
A month later I was alone in my bed for the first time in three years.
There had been something comforting about having someone next to you. I had felt safe and took it for granted, and when he was gone it took several months to feel comfort in my room alone.
I feel pathetic right now talking about this. As I sit here on the train, tears coming down my face as I realize just how hard everything had hit me and how far I’ve come to own up to my mistakes and shortcomings.
This is what that monster had done to me. And this is where I am now.
I don’t think anyone really realizes just how much counseling I’ve been in over the last two years and how much better I feel now.
To all my friends, thank you. To all the people I’ve wronged or have unconsciously done anything to, please tell me. I’m trying to do better. I’ve never been good at this social thing.
I wish I could say that this is me relearning how to live, but I never knew in the first place. Instead, this is life. And every day is another tally on my win/loss against the beast.