Sometimes I feel like such a failure. I say such bad things to myself. And my life feels like a car crash. And I make excuses and apologise for how awful I am and berate myself for being so crap in every way.
This, I choose to believe, is depression, because how damn nasty is it to tell someone that. Least of all the very being that inhabits your body. Yourself.
The voice of depression is very persuasive and will keep bouncing back with inventive ways of attacking your subconscious and telling you how very useless and worthless you are but today I have taken notice of it. It is a bully.
Unfortunately the bully hides in us and makes itself a part of us. But if we can recognise the enemy within then perhaps it can be eventually weakened or muffled if not totally silenced.
As I continue on my painful walk through depressive and anxious thorny fields I’m grateful for any insight along the way.
