The dark.

The curtains fell down a while ago. After many attempts at trying to fix it, I gave up: deciding instead to let the light of the morning wake me naturally (until I get round to getting someone into fix it).

Tonight there is a cold glow to the sky which makes the branches of nearby trees dark and intensely black in their leafless form. Other nights can bring a magical light from a full moon: I see her hover beautifully as I look up from my pillow, disturbed perhaps by the ethereal light she has brought to my room. At these times I can understand why countless civilisations have been enamoured by this celestial beauty.

Recently, the nightly view from my window has served only as a small distraction; a momentary lull in the racing thoughts and fears of my mind.

I was balancing on a knife edge, forging onwards and hoping that I could fight my way clear. Instead, I’ve descended back into the darkness. I’m low, monotone now, but it started with a crushing anxiety that froze me. I was helpless. Hopeless.

I want to be well. I want to be in work, fighting on day after day. Does that sound strange? Instead, I just feel like a failure. Someone who isn’t strong enough. Someone who can’t cope. Every well meaning word, every piece of advice telling me to ‘take some time’ or ‘put yourself first’ is just making me sink further: they see my weakness now.

And so I just feel lost in the darkness. Tomorrow I face the doctors and the anxiety that comes with trying to explain how I feel, what has happened. Friday is counselling where I fear the pain of honesty and identifying my fears. After that, hopefully, I will begin to see the light again and I will draw closer to it much like I’m drawn to the moon on those nights where she blesses us with her beauty.

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