I’ve been invited to speak at the Breathe Now conference in a panel discussion about mental health and my personal story.
Honestly, my first thought was “me? I’m fine now. That’s not my story anymore.”
But that is simply not true.
It’s been twenty seven months since i last fell down a deep dark hole. Let my life spin out of control until i couldn’t imagine waking up to one more lonely, cold morning. Twenty seven months isn’t very long.
And i am doing better. I am doing well. I’ve found a healthier way to deal with the metronome inside my head. The click clacking back and forth from low to high. Truth be told it is a far greater struggle than i ever let on. I sit up at night and listen to the raging in my head. The crazy thoughts. The loss of control. I don’t fight it anymore. I let it go, let it out. I put my phone away so i can avoid any crazy screaming on social media. I run in the mornings, in the evenings. Sometimes i run despite stress fractures and shin splints and sore muscles. I just run until my head calms and my heart stops skipping. I get out of bed when i don’t want to. I keep house and home when i want to let it all fall apart. I give kisses and hugs when i just want to retreat into myself.
I work hard to stay on the yellow line. If i weave i drink a glass of water and start again. I start again every morning.
This is how i do it. How i become the better, the healthy, person. I don’t want to be that quietly suffering woman who cried for seven years straight ever again.