The Walls May Be Talking

(Or, Getting Better by Going Crazy)

I wrote this last week and wasn’t ready to share it until today.

The exhaustion is wild and relentless. The depression, bone-deep. When I write in the thick of it, the words sometimes scare me, so I let them sit until they don’t. It’s a small mercy I’m learning to give myself.

I didn’t know how to start that morning. I was waiting on PET results, worn out…