Buzzing.

The depression has diminished, no vanished.
Anxiety takes flight and I'm remembering what it's like to be me.
My mind buzzing, my heart fleeting, my eyes are open but I can't see a fucking thing.

I have been struggling with depression off and on since this time last year.
Sinking lower, setting new standards for what normal is. A good day went from a day at the gym, time with friends, productive work day to just getting out of bed. And hit after hit came. Got dumped, lost my friends, broke my foot, broke my hand, crashed my car, sexual assaults, family problems that I can't even talk about.

I can't remember the last time I was truly happy.
And yet I don't give up. I know what giving up looks like.
It looks like drowning, digging, finding a new bottom to climb up from.
I think of the girl who killed it in treatment.
The girl who had dreams, ambitions, support where did she go?

How did I let it get this bad? How did I lose my drive, how did I lose me?

And yet it all makes sense. And grace flows through me and instead of anxiety all I see are tears. The fears are gone and I feel like I can finally see me.

I see a girl (do you say woman now at 29?) who has repeatedly been torn down, got back up only to be torn down again. I see someone who I just want to hold, to tell her it'll be okay. And that's all I want to believe is that this circle of depression / anxiety is not all my life is meant to be. To live not just survive.

And my brain is still pretty scattered right now, I feel like I'm floating (totally sober mind you), like I'm buzzing with hope, possibility, yet sadness and compassion. I'm all over the fucking map.

I have not written in a long time because nothing seemed good enough, or to even make sense. But it's one of my goals to write more because there's so much in me. And because this outlet gave me the most support that I desperately need right now.

When the anxiety comes back I get scared of it. I don't want to have days where I'm constantly-and I know I keep saying it-buzzing. Trying to do a million things at once and get nothing done creating more anxiety and yet I can't seem to just do one thing. My heart sinks right now as I realize I've spent my time writing this versus getting ready for my presentation in 11 minutes.

Failure. Failure. Failure. The word burrows into me and my shame consumes me. Not again, sometimes I really just don't want to be me.

But then when I embrace the beauty that is me, I feel so empowered. Timidly I reach for hope, for better, for positivity and it never burns me, rather it lifts me.

I keep deleting this copy for some reason, well fuck I know the reason, it's the same reason I always have: SHAME. Why am I so embarrassed to tell you my goals, or the things I've been doing well? Why is it so damn comfortable to tear myself apart rather than lift myself up?

Lately I've been really working on moderation, not going out.
I've been getting back in the gym.
I finally stopped being afraid to look like the person I want to (I got a back piece I've wanted for years, colored my hair silver and pierced my nose..I guess that'd look like acting out if I were 18 but I swear I feel more like myself than I have in a long time).
And I'm starting to reach out more to friends I didn't even realize I'd isolated from.
I'm writing "poetry" and "lyrics" basically just a mess of feelings that my friends are trying to turn into songs.
I've been killing it in my freelance jobs.
And I'm moving into a house with my best friends.

Like I said this post really has no point, it's just to start again. Begin again. Because if I don't start I don't think these feelings of shame, regret, and depression will ever stop.