On Wednesday the clouds formed. Loaded with voices and pointing fingers. They know what to say. I dred every depressive spell. Way they call my body a home. Sometimes I know when it is coming. I see it miles away slow and mountain as a submarine. But I cannot seem to get out of the way fast enough. That was my Wednesday.
This time I braced myself. Like that would make a difference. It came anyway and hurt just as bad. I knew it was more than depression. Add Elijah McClain and all the souls slash bodies who have become hashtags slash spirits slash, slash, slash. The heavy would not be named. I sat up with it this time and would not give it the last word. For every dig about how worthless I am some force within me remembered all the ways I am loved. I could hear her screaming from deep within the bottom of my belly. Rising up like the geek who would finally keep her lunch money because fair is just fair!
I woke up Thursday morning understanding the meaning of new day. I don't know or care why, but a joy washed over me and stayed. I laughed and hugged a friend. I shared a bottle of wine and memories. Some that still hurt and some that reminded me that the rainbow of my life is filled with all the colors. All those yellows and oranges and reds wrap around the gray.
The clouds will cycle again. It is easier for me to know that than be upset when they demand entrance. But I remind myself how purple I am. Next time the voices point out my flaws as I am under a mound of covers and tears, I pray I remember how peopled I am. That this body ain't alone. This body be loved so good by so many. And I am truly, truly thankful.
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