Two Years

"Tomorrow I am going to make an appointment with a counselor". I penned this in my journal almost exactly two years ago. I remember this moment well. I was living in the dorms, it was a late week night and my roommate was in her loft, exhaling heavily indicating that she was deep into sleep. I was suppressing sobs and feeling helpless. This was a low point in my life, although I can't quite remember why. I had spent the early evening walking around alone in the rain, with my hood up and my heart heavy as I passed smiling faces, laughing and running together to someplace dry and warm. There have been a lot of similar moments since that one, wet and cold. Standing, walking, biking, driving alone - feeling like I'm standing behind some fogged up, murky window looking out at bright, crisp, and clear happiness. "Simple and happy - what is that, and will I ever have it?" Something else that has appeared in my journal over and over.

What happened after that night of dark thoughts and hopeless feelings? Why did I never make that appointment? I can't quite remember the next morning. I imagine myself waking up to the natural light of the sun, enjoying the crunch of snow under my boots while wrapped up to my neck in warmth, eating a warm and filling breakfast, chatting with my friends, and convincing myself that I was okay. I wonder how many times I've done that over the last two years?

I am often times frightened of my own dark thoughts. They are starting to swallow me whole, chewing up and spitting back out my relationships and future. When I reflect back on my writings, I am shocked at how long it took me to connect the dots. Denial is a powerful, blinding thing - but now it's time to take back my happiness and whatever else has run away since then.