Grief, ED recovery, Mental Health and all the lovely things that give my Sisyphean rock meaning
The internet prefers suffering that is tidy, inspiring and tied up with a bow. Unfortunately, my brain didn’t get the memo. This is not a post about overcoming anything. It’s about what happens when you stop waiting until you’re better before allowing yourself to be seen.
Quetiapine quieted my anxiety, but in the silence, depression stepped forward. Without that frantic engine driving me, everything feels slower, heavier. I’m learning who I am without constant fear - while grieving the one person who always felt like proof that I was loved, even when I disappeared.
I climb the mountain. I feel like I’m finally getting somewhere. Then an unforeseen bear appears, mauls me, and eats the very symbol of my progress. It looks like I never climbed at all. There’s no parka to prove it. Only I know I was there.
Absurd Universe 