The new year has begun and it is painful.
My chest hurts.
No matter how deep I breathe it still doesn’t feel as though I am getting enough air.
My eyes have trouble focusing.
My appetite is gone.
My balance is off and I feel faint.
My head is empty and at the same time whirling with panic stricken words.
I cry, and cry, and cry.
I understand those who end up cutting themselves. Physical pain would come as a relief in comparison. The only reason why I am not hurting myself as a form of distraction is that I know, on an intellectual level, that it’s not the answer. But the urge is there, the wish to escape the swamp of emotional hell by any means possible.
Yes, I am having bad days.
But yes, it’ll get better.