Back in the Saddle

Nearly six months ago the carefully crafted network of thin strings that had lovingly held me together began to fray. First slowly, they loosened and slacked. Then with amazing speed they meticulously destroyed the blueprint of my sanity.

I stopped sleeping. Instead I crept out of bed at night and drove dark country roads. The windows down and music blaring. Thoughts in my head whirling.

Food was no longer necessary or pleasant. I blamed it on my meds. Really, there was simply no life to feed. I began to weigh myself 5 times a day.

I pulled my hair out strand by strand until I had a dime sized bald spot. I took ice cold showers. I watched myself bleed. But yet I felt no pain.

I'm not sure I even recognized it was happening. Of course I felt a thread go every now and again. But somehow I remained oblivious to the fact that I was rapidly coming undone. Until I couldn't breathe. It's strange how strong and undeniable the urge to breathe is. The air around me felt heavy and wet-constantly. I struggled to catch it's life and fill my lungs.

I have had to look hard at myself. I have not liked all that I have seen. I have had to weave my thread bare strings together-to make them stronger. With each new day I breathe a little easier. I love myself a little more. Slowly, I am finding peace.