Winter weariness

Updated: Jan 24

I'm weary today. I'll be just fine, but today, I feel heavy and burdened by my emotions. My head feels numb in front, like my prefrontal cortex is offline - a probability. The Prozac doesn't always work like it used to.


I don't want to be home, I don't want to be in town, I don't want to sleep, I don't want to be awake. I don't want to work or play or do the same damn routine today. The only thing that brings a genuine smile to my face is seeing pictures of my kids. Thinking about them now, my mouth turns up. Thank god something can make me feel a little lighter. I want to go get them from school. It's only 11:15 and we're all still in the first part of our day, but I just want to go scoop up my twins, kiss their soft cheeks and hold their bodies close to mine. Maybe their light will seep into me if I hold them tight enough, if I try hard enough.



Little rays of light



These waves of depth and darkness come and go. They're cruel in how ruthlessly they crash over me; the water just keeps coming and coming and I can't get any air. I swim upward, but I can't break the surface. Relentless crashing down until I feel like I'll drown. Only then does the wave retreat and I can breathe again. It pushes me to my edge until I'm begging for reprieve.


The normal seems warped and too mundane. The same things that bring me comfort on good days, suffocate me today. The same path worn, the same words exchanged. How do I find my way back to the light in my brain?


I'm telling myself not to as I write this. What will people think? I'm painting myself in such a bad light. I'm feeling low and showing it, but also, who am I to feel this way? So many layers of privilege cover me, shouldn't I be sheltered? I really shouldn't complain. But I'm crushing myself with my silence, with the attempting at pushing through. 'Should' is a load of shit. I can't 'should' shame myself today - I can hardly do what I must. 'Should' can't exist here, not today.


It's not polite to share your struggles until you're through them. Only looking backward to acknowledge what you've been through carries with it an air of pride. Have you no pride if you share the shit while you're still in it? No one knows how to help a person in the midst of it. There's way too much risk.


But, here I am. Like this:


Branches laid bare like

cold, naked arms

Bold in the audacity

to show every imperfection

She's let go of her leaves like

I've let go of my cares

Daring to release

the red and gold

in which she's clothed

Brave in showing herself

in her truest form

Risking being unappreciated

or worse,

Torn down with ugly words

She knows she can be hurt

but like the tree

she stands tall

and shows herself anyway.






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