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Dancing on the Edge of A Volcano
Healing is never linear
I remembered something last month: Healing is never linear. Or rather — I was remembered of this fact. I didn’t actually want to remember this.
The instability so inherently ingrained in my life once again resurfaced and punched this bitter truth in my face. At full speed. Wham.
There you have it, Emilia! You can never heal. Everything you have thought to be the result of healing until now has been nothing but imagination. You stupid idiot.
Healing from depression is a constant, painful up and down, a wild rollercoaster of hope and despair. It is a dance on the edge of a volcano — one can never know whether the heat will soon become unbearable or whether it will be the fall that will eventually be deadly. And then there is the constant fear of a massive eruption that will not only kill you but annihilate everything around you, everything and everyone that you have grown to love.
I’m dancing, I’m trying to live my life to the full, I’m trying to fight the beast but I can never know if my dance is too wild or if living itself will be what will eventually make me stumble and kill me.
Depression is so unbelievably unpredictable. It’s unreliable, fluctuating, unstable. Intangible, almost.
