I have been away from home for over six weeks. I have only just come back, I had been dying to come home, to see my fur baby and my lovely partner.
Both are my rocks, my partner he helps keeps me grounded, and my four legged baby girl always makes me smile.
Sometimes that is not enough to keep the darkness at bay.
The crushing weight of feeling like a failure, it so much of life. Of being in limbo and not knowing which step to take.
What can you say when the weight of the past sits on your chest, holding at bay any thought of happiness in the future. When in the back of a friends car, that pain finds itself exploding through the mouth piece. Of screams, tears and a need to break every part of one’s self. The loathing bubbling up through word of loathing, of what feels like truth. Where the idea of falling out of the car and letting the quiet dark win.
The last week of my journey found every part of myself stripped, to nothing but a shell.
Still I am home recovering, finding the memories dancing around me a play, a drama, a movie on repeat. A never ending cycle of anger at the self for the mistakes that were made.