Hello all you beautiful humans!
It’s been awhile…a long while.
There are days I mentally can’t stand up and fight my mental illness. And on those days, I feel like an even bigger failure since I am a mental health advocate.
I have been in a fast-paced, downward spiral for almost three months now. I have been feeling unworthy. I have been feeling defeated, battered, bruised, and losing a non-stop battle. I’ve been too mentally and emotionally battered to fight. I’ve been in survival mode. Eating and sleeping just enough to get me to another day. I haven’t been living, I’m merely just existing. Go to work, eat, and sleep. Repeat.
But today was the first time I had written in months. I finally opened my computer and stared at a manuscript I have been working on for over nine months. And I felt guilty all over again.
Not only have I failed to work toward my goals of becoming an author, I have been failing to reach out to those who needed a voice, those who have become followers of my blog, those whom I have been fighting the good fight for. Immediately, I felt defeated again. My PTSD had twisted the knife. I thought I had lost.
Until I opened my blog’s stats page today.
Even in my months of absence fighting a silence war with something I can’t even literally see face to face, my voice was still being heard.
Sure, to some those numbers may seen low. But for me, it lit a fire in me that has been nothing but an ember these last few months, oxygen-deprived and trying to burn just a little longer.
My tiny voice had still reached people, across eight different country. Somehow, somewhere, someone found my blog and decided to read it. To read my story. I felt a small glimmer of hope again.
Of course, I was excited by the stats. How did a small town girl from Newfoundland manage to reach someone in Sweden? I didn’t really care, I was just too overwhelmed with the success. Because honestly, numbers don’t matter. To me, reaching that one sole person who stumbled across my blog in Brazil has changed me, and hopefully left enough impact to inspire them as well.
So I decided it was time to reach out again, throw myself back into the battle, despite my still healing wounds and ever-doubtful confidence. I may be exhausted. I may not be on my ‘A’ game, but I’m here. I’m wounded, but I’m fighting.
Even though I have been struggling, know that I am still fighting for you. For us both. For that one sole person in Brazil. For anyone who needs a voice. Who needs an advocate.
I’m still in this fight.
However, I do sincerely apologize to my closest followers and adovcates. Your support has meant so much since I decided to share my story. You’ve kept me going and I fell behind. For that I am sorry.
But I’m trying to be strong, believe me. (Que Take That’s song,”Patience”). Sometimes I need time as well. Because it’s an injustice for me to stand up for you when I can’t even stand up for myself.
But I’m trying.
So have a little patience. I’m slowly weathering the storm.
I’ll find my way again.
And as always,
Fight the good fight.