I’m feeling wholly uninspired today. Kind of empty. But sometimes empty is good, I guess. I don’t have the vicious depression harpies swirling around my amygdala today (although I can hear their snarls as I sit here anticipating their return). It is a novel kind of fear as I realize that I don’t know who I am without them. They have been my constant companions for so long.
I don’t remember letting them devour me. But I suppose they have been taking ant-sized nibbles of my self-worth for years, while at the same time screaming so loud to distract me that I never noticed.
I would say that I feel like a blank canvas with the promise of a fresh start . . .
But I don’t.
That would erase all of the hard, painful, stressful, agonizing, beautiful moments where I fought and lost and learned.
I am a charred shell of my former self, like a building that has burned from the inside out. That’s why suicide was so tempting. What is the point of keeping the walls up, when there is nothing left inside? It no longer has value for its intended purpose. It makes the most sense to just demolish it and let something else take its place.
But I cannot. I have too much left to do. Trust me, I had a date set for demolition. I had the wrecking ball on-site, engine on, and ball pulled back taut ready to release, but then a friend stepped in and canceled the demolition. And most days I’m glad she did.
She could see potential there, in that scorched husk of a building, that I still have trouble seeing. So do my husband and my friends and my doctors and my therapist; They see worth in me even when I feel like my value is gone.
Someday I dream of being rebuilt from the bottom up, from the inside out: with a solid foundation, new walls, floors, and ceilings. Someday I hope to be beautiful, and useful, and strong. Someday I hope to be fully dedicated to the service and strengthening of others. And until that day, I have to stay standing even if I have to rely on others to hold me up.
Light The Darkness,