I had a great couple of days. Of course, having a great couple of days means different to me.
Having a great couple of days did not mean that I went out, travel or did a self-care practice. I don’t know what people do but it looks very different to mine, because in my vocabulary when I say that I had a great couple of days, it means that nothing happened to my mind — it means that nothing triggered the beast for a couple of days.
On those days, I feel normal, safe, and light-weighted. I become a human for a couple of days — I move, act and feel like them, and it feels wonderful. I can take my dark glasses off my eyes, and I can finally see the lights that are surrounding me all along.
On those days I feel like I am cured, and I wonder what would be like to live like this forever. My days feel easier, lighter, more manageable, and my symptoms are controllable. I do my routine with an easiness that I don't normally feel. Usually, it is a heavy chore.
Those days feel like a rainbow in the middle of a gray cloudy sky — there are a little strange, but I smile whenever they stay. I live in those days. Usually, I survive, but not live.
Of course, there is always this hidden voice that tells me that something bad will happen soon, and my regular days will be back, so I try to enjoy it while it lasts. Today the voice was right. I woke up today expecting another great day, but then it happened. Oh no, it happened, and I got back to my regular safe zone, the one and only — the couch.
The couch, is my only companion when I wear back my dark glasses, I can stay there for hours, not able to move and not wanting to, and the more the triggers are bigger, the more the days are most heavy, the more I feel me and my companion becoming one, and the more I become part of it.
The couch doesn’t ask questions, doesn’t encourage, doesn’t judge, and doesn’t say a word - silence, the couch is pure silence. An unusual warmth and perfect solitude. The couch held me for a long time now. It saw part of me that no one saw. It is the only place that I show the real me, and the actual face of depression.
But be aware, don't think that the couch is a friend. It is pretty sneaky, doubled face, a pretender — and I know it is not my companion, but depression's companion. Just like depression, it wants me to be there, trapped, not being able to move or act. It wants to consume me fully, to make me think it is the friend when, in fact, it is the enemy and my enemy's close friend.
Today I did not have a great day. I woke up and then I got heavily triggered, so I stopped my day, I stopped living and I came back to surviving. I let my body be fully absorbed by my alleged friend.
But wait, there is a happy ending. I got up; I did a peppermint tea; I put on my music, and I wrote this piece.
I did not listen to the tricky friend today. It feels much better to be away from the pretender.
This is a reminder to you too, reader.
#Depression #Healing #post