My heart is aching with such a putrid weight recently.
Unfortunately, that is the nature of seasonal depression.
The nights have drawn in, the darkness lingers longer than usual and my body begins to shut down in its entirety, with the exception of the constant whirring of my stomach and mind.
I no longer recognise myself in the mirror as the dissociation sets in and the features across my face begin to blur into nothingness.
I've always struggled with the autumn and winter months.
I'm finding little to no joy in the things I usually do; cooking, cleaning, playing with my son. It shames me to admit that it all becomes quite monotonous.
I wake up in the morning with an immense sense of dread, struggling to escape the intense clutch that the security of my bed provides.
It's supposed to be a joyous time of year, my son turns one next week and instead, I'm battling feelings of low self worth and anxiety like you could never imagine; unless of course, you feel it too.
The clinical name hits home more frequently than I'd like to admit.
Seasonal Affective Disorder. SAD.
I'm nothing if not simply... SAD.
There are things I can do to ease the aches and pains that are psychosomatic. Albeit, a minute amount of strength required, a strength that I feel I don't have at the moment.
I stood over my son's cot a couple of nights ago, and how the tears flowed.
"He deserves better than this" I told myself.
"He needs strength and courage, not cowardice and tears"
In all honesty, there's a part of me that recognises that I'm clinging onto my sanity by a thin, ready to break piece of cotton, if only for him.
I'll always hold on for him.
I find comfort in food, and watch as my waist expands. One pound, two pounds, three pounds, four. Five pounds, six pounds, seven pounds... more.
My mind takes me to all sorts of places as of late. I wish I could wallow in self-pity, but the existence of my one year old no longer allows for it. I recognise that as a good thing, but I'm exhausted from the daily fight to get out of bed as is.
But in amongst it all, there's glimmers. Little beacons of hope and sunshine. Metaphorically and literally speaking.
I may have eaten my weight in junk food the last few weeks, but I've not purged like I used to. I call that progress.
I may have cried my heart out as I watched my son sleep, and I may have awoken him with not so silent sobs, but the smile on his face, washes all my fears, self doubt and negativity away.
I also may have resigned myself to the front door for more cigarettes than were necessary, but in that... I felt the warmth of the sunshine on my face.
Glimmers.
Above all else, and despite how I feel... I'm more hopeful than the last time I defined myself as a sad girl. As I acclimatise to the change in weather, I cling desperately onto the fact that good things are on the way.
A holiday with my mum, who lives too far away for me to see more than 3 - 6 monthly and usually for a short weekend.
My son's first birthday, and the look on his face when he opens the living room to see it adorned by Mickey Mouse balloons, a birthday breakfast food and presents galore.
Above all else, like the seasons come and go, as the seasons pass, so will this feeling.
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