Here, wrap yourself in my yesmetoo quilt made from words that pour out of my heart. Be comforted with the knowledge that you are not alone with whatever you feel. Burrow beneath the warmth from the surety that others have survived what you are experiencing.
Since I’ve started writing, I’ve learned that there are people all over the world that are very different from me yet we have shared experiences. The simple “Yes, me too!” comment is my favorite. After so many years of being told I’m crazy, stupid, or wrong, it’s comforting to know that there is at least one other person that knows exactly what I’m talking about.
So here, wrap yourself in my yesmetoo quilt whenever you need it.
I see you
I hear you
I’ve felt what you feel
I’ve slogged through the same muck, climbed the same boulders
I’ve been scared (still am at times)
I’ve come through safe, albeit dirty and battered
I will hold the light for you
I will hold your hand
Let me help you come out of the dark
A mental health website asked the question “How do you keep going when despair takes over?” I wanted to participate in the discussion, but I couldn’t think of an answer. I’ve been in self-destruct mode for quite a while, yet every morning I wake up and think “OK, try again, just one more day.”
Then last night, while playing Trivial Pursuit with my husband, I looked up and saw the answer. He was looking at me, and in his eyes I saw a reflection of a tiny spark of light. It finally dawned on me that he sees beyond the miasma of depression, to that small flame that still flickers deep within me. That must be what he holds on to, what helps him to make it one more day with me. And because I can see it in his eyes, even when I think it’s gone out, I can keep going…one more day.
Hope is running before me, barely out of reach. I get so close I can almost feel her fingertips, but my legs ache from running in the sand. If I can find the strength within me, one more burst of energy, I know I can catch her before it is too late. I hear her calling to me, “Grasp my hand, let my vibrant energy restore your colorless life.”
The tears make my pillow soggy, “don’t wake up, can’t do this anymore, tired of trying, imposter, not who they think I am.” It’s a conundrum – I don’t want to wake up in the morning, yet I do…and I keep trying day after day. Why?
You out there, you are the ones who’s voices I hear in the morning. Your voices are louder than the ones I hear at night.
Bob runs to me when I come back from a walk, sits on my feet, “Where have you been? I missed you.”
Bob chirps through the door in the morning, “Wake up, we’re hungry.”
My granddaughter runs in the door yelling “Bubbe! Bubbe! Bubbe!”
Greg holds me, “I’ve got you.”
My daughter sends me a silly, loving sticker on Messenger.
It’s Thursday, laundry day.
The sweetness of the cantaloupe makes my mouth happy.
And somewhere deep inside me is something I don’t understand that keeps nudging me along.