14 weeks

Of medication. Of therapy. What difference has it made?

Tonight, it feels as though very little difference has occurred. Yet I know, in spite of my current discomfort and pain, that 14 weeks ago I was feeling very, very wretched. At the end of my tether. As though another day would cause me such pain that I would disintegrate into dust in the sunlight. I recall the sun falling into the room through the window and me feeling physically wounded by its presence, turning away from its warming rays. Days of not being able to get up out of bed. Remaining in the same clothing for days on end, no showers. Barely able to tolerate the kids voices as they excitedly told me of their days, of which I'd been absent. Barely eating. Barely drinking. Days passing by in a haze of shoulds which could not be met.

I am better. But I am not whole. I don't know who this creature is. I exist, day by day, but I am not me. I have no goals. No future. No dreams. I am me, bared naked and unknowing.

It feels uncomfortable.

I felt the return of Spring today and it gladdened my heart but my soul remained cold. My Soul said "what does it matter? You will still be you, and you are not enough". If my very essence says that then what hope do I have? None. And so I cannot welcome Spring, with her warm rays and fragrant blooms. For it is meaningless in the end. And I shall burn like embers in the ever increasing Sun.