Some days

Some days felt like eternity, and some days felt like hell. Other days felt like eternity in hell.

I was, and still am, tormented by the constant thoughts of “what if”.

“What if I had texted them sooner? What if I had gotten off of work a little bit earlier? What if I had said something when I felt something was wrong?”

The continuous feelings of self doubt and self punishment ate at me for awhile. Some days, the self inquisitions were more daunting than others. 

I remember in the beginning, the process of going to work and taking the train felt different. I would stand on the platform waiting, as the thoughts began to pile in.

“What if I just jumped? What if I just fell? What I just got in front of the train?”

These thoughts scared me, but what did I have to lose?

I had lost the love of my life, my dignity, my sanity, my future and my non existent future children.

Some days it felt like I had nothing left.

Some days the future felt non existent. Technically, at that time, it was just that. Nothing to look forward to. 

My life could end today, tomorrow. It could all end so easily.

Some days were worth staying, and some days weren’t worth the pain.

Some mornings I couldn’t gather the energy to get out of bed. Sometimes I didn’t even need an alarm. My anxiety never let my body rest enough to hit REM cycle. 

These days were the hardest days I would ever experience.

These “some days” would turn into “better days”, or so I had been told. 

I would go, day by day, watching other’s worlds continue while mine was at a stand still. If I could describe my days, I would say they were black and grey. 

It is not fair to say that I didn’t have some days where something made me smile or someone made me laugh. I was grieving, consumed by my thoughts, but I still had a sense of humor. 

Two years later, and my days are a little different. 

Some days are better than others. 

Some days I over sleep, but that’s because I turned off all my alarms. 

Some days I find myself crying at little triggers. Some days I find myself cackling over twitter memes. 

Some days I want to drink myself away and others I find myself abstaining for the week. 

My days have become functional. They have gone from black and grey to some shades of pastel. 

My thoughts still become sad and they sometimes trap me, but I am blessed to have my parents as my support system, my family doctor, and my fluoxetine to keep me from going under. 

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