In the Darkest of Times

These days all I want to do is crawl under my duvet, draw the curtains, pass out for a very long time – and wake up when it’s summer, 30 degrees and there’s a tub of ice cream waiting for me on my bedside table.

I feel like I am crushed under the waves of a very strong tide, and words fail to leave my mouth. When they actually do leave my mouth, they sound like a language I don’t understand, and my brain can’t get to parse it. It’s like listening to someone else speak, and being unable to react to it.

And yet there’s a ray of hope. Someone pulls the duvet and the curtains apart, drags me from the ocean bed. I breathe. I let him in.

He puts his arms around me and becomes my warm blanket. I no longer feel scared, I feel safe.

And while it’s only temporary and I still need to face my demons, he gives me that push, that strength that propels me forward. I jump on a boat, I save myself. He speaks to me in a language I understand, and my brain parses it. I’m being myself, until I’m not myself anymore. But he’ll be there to pull me back together.

And while the UK seems to experience the longest winter ever, I know it is not going to last. The tree outside my house will blossom. The tide will go down. giphy

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