I’ve spent my life in isolation, bound in the chains of emotional abuse, mummified with the metaphorical bandages of manipulation, and dumped into a deep well of depression that I couldn’t seem to get out of. I still have my days of feeling like I’m trapped, with no way out.
So what do you do when you’re trapped at the bottom of a well, bound and gagged, sinking deeper under the water, with no means of escape?
You fight, you claw and gnaw at the ropes and chains that regenerate with the recurring thoughts of past mistakes and missed opportunities. You tred the frideged waters, made colder by the echoes of negative voices. You climb the walls of the well that are slick with fear and doubt. You grip the edge of the well, seeing light for the first time in what seems like eons, just to be pushed back to the bottom again by the cold heel of soul crushing regret and failure.
You are tired, in pain, cold, and hungry, but you get up again, and again, and again just to feel the warm glow of the light of happiness on your face. That brief moment gives you hope that there is a way out of the well.
I don’t know if I will ever get out of the well. I’ve accepted that at some point, I may be able to sit on the edge of the well, basking in the warm light. But I will always have my feet dangling over the edge.