I talked yesterday about the dark, downward spiral that sometimes gets triggered by my anxiety, especially after I hit a bump in the road or make a mistake. On good days I can talk myself out of that spiral, but on bad days, when the anxiety and depression gang up on me, that spiral pulls me down into a dark hole, a danger zone I try to avoid.
It is here, in this dark hole, that my darkest tales often get written. It is here, where the bright lights offered by the people in my life who love me, who support me, struggle to get through. It is here, where I forget that there are good days, and that this darkness will pass, that I will escape this dark hole.
It is when I am in this dark hole that it is hard for me to get out of bed. And it was in the dark hole that I experienced my worst moments, the moments when I stopped caring about what happened to me.
I write this not for sympathy. There is no shame in having these dark tales. Rather there is strength in overcoming them. And I write this to let others know that if they are in that dark hole, they aren’t alone. So many of us have been there before. And those of us who have been there before can help get you out.