Having witnessed in an almost out of body experience my current slide into depression and head fuckedness again, I have made the decision to fight back and not let it defeat me and leave me running for the SSRI’s.
It’s like I can feel a clarion call inside me that now is the time for action, time to stand up and be counted, time to rely on my own inner strength and wisdom to get through this and time to crush the headmess once and for all.
I feel like I should be wearing a long leather trench coat filled with essential demon fighting equipment like silver bullets (technically werewolves but whatever), wooden stakes and garlic, with some big bad ass knee high boots and I keep imagining myself riding on the back of my depression (which has naturally taken on the form of some heinous hell beast with spiny fingers and mottled skin) like a cowgirl would ride a bucking bronco, whilst attempting to shove a stake through it’s heart.
First in my attempt to defeat the head fog is the small matter of changing the way I perceive things (so a nice easy one to start with then!) and altering the way I think about certain situations. Take the aforementioned wobbly arms, yes they’re minging and make me look like I should be wearing a tabard serving lumpy custard to bratty schoolchildren but they’re mine and they’re a symbol of what I’ve achieved and overcome and god damn it, it’s a lot. I know I can stand there at the wedding in my dress feeling proud and knowing that the people there that I love and care about will know how far I’ve come and that I’ll be wearing my wobbly bits like a badge of honour.
Ps) I’d just like to make a public declaration of how proud I am of my pal Crusher – she’s been awarded a prize for her amazing transformation and I’m very proud, totally inspirational! xxx