Through the Cracks

If you're reading this blog you probably know me at least a little bit and if you know me literally AT ALL you know that over the past three years, recovery and discovering self love has definitely become my #brand.  It's hilarious now looking back at my very first blog posts, where I would very vaguely hint at the fact that I was maybe taking time off to fix something about myself, when now I will talk about my recovery at the drop of a hat.  Even though I am incredibly candid about my journey and how far I have come, I try to make it very clear that I have bad days.  I have clinical depression.  I have OCD (and no, not the kind you think you joke about having).  These are all things that I have not recovered from, but I have become pretty good at managing them in my day to day life.

My depression has evolved over the past few years.  When I was still deeply entrenched in my disorder and during most of my recovery it was pretty classic sadness.  It was messy and tear filled.  It was hours spent in bed and crying over my reflection and mascara running down my face and snot in my throat.  It was calling my mom three times a day because I was just so sad and having breakdowns over virtually everything and everyone.  

Lately, it's a little different.  It's dry and apathetic.  It's going through the motions and vacant stares and disassociation and watching sad movies in an effort to feel anything at all.  I had a spell of this lately, and let me tell you, I think I might even prefer the mess of a girl from a few years ago compared to the zombie who sits in her room and can't get excited about almost anything.  It's just...kind of terrifying to be honest. 

I wish that the whole point of this post was to tell you how I get over these periods of time, these depression valleys I have to traverse every so often.  But, it's (unfortunately) not that easy. I have a huge list of coping mechanisms and tricks I use to make it more bearable, but sometimes it's just a stay in bed all day kind of day.  But if this crazy thing called life has taught me anything it is that there is always...always hope. I use "cracking" imagery a lot in my writing and when I talk about stuff.  I say that when I'm inspired to write, something cracks open and it rushes out of me.  I say that my disorder chipped away at me until I was full of cracks, and that recovery was about putting the pieces together.  Depression doesn't feel different to me.  I feel like no matter how bad I get, there is always a moment where it cracks.  There's no other way I know how to describe it.  Something cracks open and slowly the light seeps back in.  I know that when I'm in the thick of it, I feel like it will never end.  And you have to work hard and take care of yourself, but something will always crack the steely finish of your sadness.  Whether it's a song or your friend's laughter or a blue sky or the hope of spring.  The light will inevitably always find it's way back in.  

Peace, Love, and Burnt Part Boys references,
KT