After the Storm of Depression
Unsure how long the storm has been raging. Pouring Rain. Raging Wind. Suffocating darkness.
The clouds are parting. The rain has stopped, and the sun is starting to rise. The clouds still loom as if the storm could return at any moment. The light filters through the clouds and I glimpse my surroundings.
Seeing now the damage left behind. Roofs torn off houses, branches of trees, piles of rubble. Mess. I begin to clean up my surroundings. Finally able to convince myself to act. Finally not feeling suffocated by the ever present clouds. Yet simultaneously feeling the weight of the task before me.
The task of making changes, sorting out life decisions, trying to move forward. Trading the darkness for confusion. The inability to move with haziness of where to even begin. Glimpsing the light but fearing the gloom will return at any moment. The hope that so quickly came just as quickly fades away as the immenseness of the task sits heavily on my mind. Digging through the rubble searching for the pieces that will help build my life again.
Occasionally I find a piece of my life that makes sense. Hope! Finally, a glimpse of what once was and what can be. As quickly as the glimpse comes it just as quickly fades away and I am left again searching. Suddenly, I glance up and see the people around wanting to help. I begin to reach out and fight the feelings of shame and guilt as I ask for help. Feeling dirty and torn apart, not wanting to be a burden and share the exhaustion and mess.
Embraced by those who don’t notice or care about how filthy I feel I am. Searching together through the rubble and finding pieces together. Sorting out what is helpful and what is no longer needed. Although still fighting the guilt of asking others to join my dirty journey, I begin to realize the task was too big for me to carry alone.
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Thinkstock photo by Sielan