Your chest tightens. Your legs get numb. Your heart races. Then the grief hits. Slowly at first, and then all at once.
Getting triggered is the worst. I’m not even employing hyperbole; it is literally the worst. Smack bang in the middle of living your life, and in an instant, you’re forced to contend with something you’ve buried or compartmentalized. It could be a smell, a song, a number… there are a compendium of things that can take one back to that darkest of dark moments. It’s virtually impossible to inoculate yourself from it all. Life doesn’t happen in a vacuum – you have to encounter people and situations that just act as a clarion call which remind you that your life is no longer just yours. It belongs to your depression too.
I crave normalcy. I yearn for safe spaces in my own mind. A mind that exists as a gaol to keep me fettered to the darkest of abysses. A mind that is a chasm between before and now.