Mental illness has seasons, well, mine does at least.

It’s like a circle. I’m in the middle, watching the seasons go by. I can’t touch the outer ring because I am stuck in place. I can’t make the circle bigger, or break the ring. I just sit, and watch it.

The seasons that are out of my peripheral vision, those are my good moments. I can always see my bad ones, even if I want to deny them.

I can’t dictate how fast the seasons move around the circle. The illness does.

When I am in survival mode, I build a small fortress in the middle. Problem is, I can’t see the seasons pass. Self preservation is paramount and I can’t take the focus off of that.

I am in the fortress now. It’s safe in here, but I am on the defensive. Always on high alert.

It’s exhausting in here. I miss watching the seasons pass. In the fortress it is always winter. Grey, cold, lifeless.

I know if I break down the walls the seasons will return to the circle.

I am afraid of feeling good. I am afraid to feel, period. But if I don’t get out of here, I’ll become numb and go down the rabbit hole.

This week I’ve been knocking some bricks out of the wall. I’ve made peace with a couple of things that have been chewing in my ear.

Next week will be hard. I will ask for help with some things, which will give me some footing to keep going.

Slowly the seasons will start moving around the circle again. I won’t be in the eternal winter sitting in this fortress. The more bricks I destroy the better, even though it’s hard.

I am hoping I will be happy to see the sun, and to breathe the fresh air. I really need it right now.

It’s time to be vulnerable, and be open to what is coming my way.

Scared? Oh hell yes.

Oh hell yes.