I'm in a beautiful place where the snow is freshly fallen, life is everywhere, there are plenty of reasons to take the deepest breath and relax every inch of my body... but then there's that weight.
There's the weight of what next and when and how much and how soon and will I be able to support my children financially while keeping a home and not yelling when I get too overwhelmed and my breath gets short. I did that this morning... yelled. I was tired. My body hurts.
I'm in a beautiful place, but I still find my mind wandering somewhere else in the future where I know exactly what happens and I can revel in the calmness of reassurance. I made it through the day yesterday and some great things happened, but in between those great things I felt the weight again. GET AWAY! The weight is a heavy one that makes it harder to take a step forward, but then it provides me with this comfort of knowing that it's always going to be there, like a weighted blanket or something. Like, hey, it's you again... I sense the familiar feeling and then the coping tactics take over and we get shit done.
I'm in a beautiful place and I wonder if I'm ever meant to live without this weight that accompanies me from day to day. I wonder what the weight really is and I can't make out a shape or a texture- it just kind of holds me there. I take medicine to keep the weight at bay, but then I wonder if it really benefits me to keep it away. Maybe it's just as much a part of me as my HIV status. Or my Bipolar Disorder. Or maybe they both live inside the weight holding hands and plotting the next time they'll visit me in that overbearing, sort of fulfilling way. I'll let you know when I figure it out. Just know I'm okay and I've got it together in a way that was never meant to be together in the first place.