On Surviving

My dear friend tells me how much she understands my personal challenges with this wisdom:

“It sucks.”

Yes. It does. I’ve been doing better these past few days, as I’ve proven to myself once again that feet are for landing on. But, there is no better statement, or more gratifying empathy, than these words. Depression just sucks.

My little big man turned three this week. I’ve never been prouder, or humbler, or more grateful. He’s a person, a whole person – and, while it doesn’t sound so humble, I know that it’s in very big part because of me. Because of surviving. Of getting back up again. And again.

I found this quote a few days ago, during a dark time. It helped. Reading it again, it still does.

“Your willingness to wrestle with your demons will cause your angels to sing.”

– August Wilson (American Writer, 1945-2005)

If wrestling is what it takes, then I do it gladly. Because I couldn’t live if my singing were silenced. Even if the wrestling sucks. Which it does.

There’s so much at stake now. It’s not just my angels singing anymore. I have a real live one (angel, that is), singing at full volume at very ungodly hours and fluttering (well, stomping) about.

Merci Bonhomme. You are my heart.


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