Bad Day Blues

This disease crawls up at you like a monster in the night. Afraid to let my guard down, I keep my feet hidden under the bed sheets to prevent it from clawing at my feet, dragging me down with it. But, determined as I am, my legs are captured and my entire body is its victim. I can’t breathe, never mind scream for someone to rescue me. I belong to it. It is taking over and there is nothing left of me. 

I am alone in the dark. I can hear the shouts of the previous prisoners of my soul begging for help. There is no one there. 

I am blind to the hands reaching down to rescue me. I can feel them caressing me gently, but I am slipping further from them. Deeper into the darkness. Deeper into despair. 

I woke up yesterday feeling worthless and broken. Almost beyond repair. I hardly moved, never mind being proactive, if leaving your room counts as proactivity… My dad, whom I now live with, came into my room to check on me, I think he knew I was having a tough day. I pushed him away.

 I have found that that’s a huge ‘side effect’ to this disorder. You refuse the help that someone so desperately wants to give you. It’s almost as if I don’t want the help, except I actually really do. 

In the process of getting better, I have learnt that it is better to accept love and offered help rather than pushing people that care further away. 

Yes, sometimes you just need that moment to be with your thoughts and compose yourself, but sometimes, more often than not, that hug or stroke on the cheek, that offered cup of tea, it can go a long way to feeling better. 

Don’t push away the people that love you. Although you may feel broken, they only see a crack that can be fixed with a little TLC. 

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