Some Days Are A Battle

Some days are a battle and some are more like a war. Where every direction you turn, you are hit with the shrapnel of chaos. Angry words, personal attacks, and other’s chaos. Left to fight metaphorical demons the whole day, depleting your willpower and body. The demon anxiety, yours and others, the demon stress and panic, depression. It’s hard enough to be up to your neck in your own chaos but then to take on the chaos of others simultaneously is like trying to pull a drowning person to safety, while they fight you and wear you out too.

Some days can be so draining all you can do is to draw into yourself to protect the little bit of you left. To some, you have imprisoned yourself, but sometimes you are defending the last bit of sanity you have until you can recuperate. Don’t apologize for doing your best and not being able to cover all the bases, sometimes you can’t. Some days you do better than others as is common with anxiety disorders and depression, some days you are equipped for battle donning your sword and marching into the fight, some days you hide within retreating from the metaphorical enemies. The sword feels too heavy, the battle is too strong.

Go into yourself if you need to and rest up. You will never stand a chance depleted and worn down. Refill your soul, refuel your fire and burn brighter another day. No one expects you to fight endlessly, human beings can’t do that. Sleep heals us, sometimes quiet is the medicine an overstimulated and under-rested soul needs. Sometimes life is too loud continuously and the silence is the reprieve. Jesus wept, but he also slept, and he was no ordinary man. Do not hold yourself to unattainable standards, accept your limits and your best. Every day is a new day to begin again and a chance to tackle what feels impossible today. Love yourself and be kind to yourself. Rest up and dust yourself off with the rising of the sun.

Published by izzysconfessions

I was born and raised in the smallest of towns in Southwest Virginia. A town that is extraordinarily active, yet a town that is like it's very own little mini Bible belt. My dad was Baptist, my mom pentecostal, and I'm paranormal. I would venture to say it is somewhat of a family trait. One that is met with equal acceptance and curiosity as much as it is met with skepticism. Individually and collectively so much has been experienced and witnessed at times to such a degree that one might wonder how on earth there is room for doubt. I dont have all the answers, I do not have it all figured out. Im as human as everyone else relying heavily many mornings on a lot of coffee and a little Jesus. In fact, I can't decide what I want for dinner most days. One constant is I cannot go a single day without chocolate. Pour a cup of coffee, or a little tea and whiskey and join me in my confessions of a haunted freak.

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