If life is like swimming, the water I was swimming through started to get thicker and thicker a long time ago. For a while I guess it was like fighting through custard. Sometimes it got thicker and it became harder and harder to swim. Sometimes it let up and got easier again for a while, but I haven’t been swimming in water for a long time.
Eventually I was swimming in quicksand, and being pulled under, so quickly. It felt so out of my control.
Somebody is playing a cruel trick on me. They replaced the quicksand with custard again, just for a few days. The custard felt so much easier to swim through. Now I’m just alternating between custard and quicksand. Just when I remember how much easier it is to swim through custard, the quicksand is back. When it’s easier to fight, I forget how hard the hard bit can be. When the hard bit comes back, I don’t believe that swimming will ever get easier again.
I don’t know if this is what recovery is supposed to feel like.
I’ve never recovered from swimming in quicksand before.
I don’t know if it is worth fighting through the custard just to be pulled under the quicksand again, or whether this means that I need to try something else.
I don’t know why some people believe antidepressants are a fucking lifeboat, a ‘happy pill’. They have stopped me from drowning in quicksand, but that’s all they have done. I’m not better. I’m not okay. I wish the custard bits would last for longer. And I can’t even imagine how it would feel if the plain old water came back.
This blog might be temporary. I just needed to get my thoughts of recent days out somewhere.