Even now…I’m struggling.

Even now, in the “best I’ve felt in years”, coming off a high of 2 vacations back to back, I’m struggling.

Even now, after a day that wasn’t all bad. A day that had its moments of hope and promise…I’m struggling.

Struggling means a lot of different things for me.

Sometimes, it means the most basic definition of depression. I don’t care. I want to sleep all the time. Literally nothing sparks joy. Apathy.

Sometimes it means something darker. I’m in the bathroom late at night with lighters and sharp objects. Should I cut or should I burn? What’s going to leave the least obvious mark?

Sometimes, they’re even more tragic still.

Should I drink the entire fucking bottle of liquor? Should I then mix it with a bottle of pills? Or should I reach out, go to sleep, ask for help….try to make any kind of a smarter decision instead?

Struggling looks so different on different kinds of nights.

Sometimes is sadness in the form of tears and textbook depression. And sometimes, it’s a whole fucking lot darker and scarier. Not that one is worse than the other….but some nights just seem more deadly than others.

Even now. When nothing “should” be wrong. I find myself struggling.

I’ve been textbook depression for a hot minute now. Sleeping every chance I get. Apathy. Nothing sparks joy. I just don’t care.

But tonight feels a little more…intense. A little more drastic.

I have to say. I’ve been clean of self harm for….well, if I had to guess, I’d say since April. (Since my birth son’s birthday).

But tonight is tempting. In all the worst ways.

I could pick a fight with my husband, but I don’t need to. I don’t need an excuse to be upset, I simply just am. And maybe that’s okay.

Maybe it’s okay to not be okay.

And tonight I’m not okay.

Even now….even now.

My kids are sick. And sick means hospital stays. It even means the possibility of worst case scenario…of death. That’s the reality of special needs parenting. Will they aspirate? Will their lungs shut down? Will their bodies be too weak to fight this illness? Will this be the one?????

Sick season is here. It’s taken its physical toll on my oldest. And its mental toll on me. It’s working its way down through the kids.

Colds mean hospital stays. And I’m terrified for something worse.

Depression means giving up. And I’m terrified for something worse.

I’m just so fucking tired.