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These last 5 days have been full of Puffs brand lotion tissues caked to my chafing nostrils, Sudafed scraping down a sore throat, and fitful naps with dreams of drowning.

‘Tis the season, I guess.

Head cold aside, there has been some battling these last few days. The desire to be able to lessen my depression (fun to say) is dancing a tense tango with my usual self-destructive tendencies. I want to starve and binge and purge and stairs-stepper into the calorie-free heavens but I want to be happy and healthy and an example of overcoming mental illness.

It feels as contradictory as it sounds.

I’d love to shave off the bits of me I hate until I’m just a bloodied mess. I’d love to “love me as I am.”

Too much cold medicine. Too much sleep. Not enough words that make sense.

Thanks for reading.


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