Today Is A New Day

When it wins, it wins big, so I must start again. It’s all or nothing where I’m concerned and this morning I find myself sick and tired, full of loathing and regret. OCD fights a guerrilla war now, striking hard and fast before skulking back into the shadows again to await its next contact. There are no unfurled banners and sparkling uniforms. This is the dirtiest of dirty wars. It takes no prisoners and seeks no parley.

I’ll pick up the pieces, batten down the hatches, bury my dead and face the day, afresh. This is a silent war, there are no booming cannons or clashing swords to herald the coming conflict. It’s an internal struggle, a ten steps forward, nine steps back war of attrition. I play the long game, ceaselessly patrolling the borders of my psyche, ever vigilant, my finger twitching on the trigger.

You will not see it coming. A blade in the back and a second of recognition before the darkness descends is the best you can hope for. Mental health is the most fragile and fickle of commodities. We preen and pose to attain physical perfection, while inside our neglected minds wither on the vine. It laughs as I lace up my running shoes and prepare to pound the pavements once more. For it knows. It knows.

I have my allies. Defences have been bolstered and ramparts manned. The long watch begins once more as I scan the horizon, watching the weakest of suns peek above the treeline in the distance. It’s out there, watching me watching it. We are in this for life, joined at the hip. It will not stop and I will not give in. A fight to the death. Every war has its casualties. Yet, today is a new day. Today I start again.

How is your mental health today?

41 thoughts on “Today Is A New Day

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  1. It’s 5:55 a.m. on a Tuesday morning here in Buffalo, NY & so far so good. I’ve been up for almost two hours.

    I have Bipolar disorder, I’m a rapid cycler, & I have the ability to cycle in & out of mania & depression within the confines of a single day. Lately though, I have been fighting a terrible depression. Unlike many people, I get depressed in the summer months. I find the long bright days oppressive. I can’t sleep in the heat. All this makes the BP worse.

    I don’t run but I do walk at least a mile a day. If I have the time, I do more. Walking, being outdoors, getting any kind of exercise, is the best medicine.

    & of course, there’s always the joy of housework!

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Sometimes we just need to remember that we are enough. When I bring God into my day I’m less likely to be distracted by all the nonsense whether internal or external. Be well

      Liked by 1 person

  2. Hang in there, my friend. It is in our failings that we sometimes help others the most. You do that by sharing your struggles with your readers and we realize we are not alone. Know that God gives us a new day so that yesterday is finished and today is a clean slate to begin again. Prayers being lifted for you today.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Constant vigilance is required, always. Resentment/paranoia/despondency/whatever sit right outside waiting for any crack to slip through and torture me. It is indeed a fight to the death, as you say.

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  4. Quite lovely poetry FF. I’d say you’re winning the battles. I couldn’t even make entries when I was down and out, so kudos my friend. And as many have mentioned, though I am sorry for your mental health space today and root for your remission, I find comfort in knowing I am not alone. God willing we will all win this war.

    Liked by 2 people

  5. Stay the course, Stephen, full speed ahead. I woke up depressed and anxious this morning. The dreary weather contributes, but today is a day in which I need to simply put one foot in front of the other…or just go back to bed.

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  6. After a rough weekend of missing my Dad and trying to figure out why my life seems to invite grief even in the midst of joy, I came to the conclusion that that is what conscious living is all about. Living at the edges brings us closer to God and closer to what really matters. It opens us and makes us vulnerable. It teaches us about giving and receiving grace. It is not comfortable but it is real. I awoke Monday morning with a sense of calm soothing my present struggles and chased down a sunrise on my run. There is also a joy to be found on the edge – and I feel it even more deeply when I find it in the midst of grief. Peace to you as you carry on – stronger for the fight.

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  7. I relate to this so deeply. I’m doing OK, still trying to run when I have time. But time is a luxury that I rarely have in spring. Today is the last day I Coach soccer. To say this was a difficult experience is an understatement…I quite literally would rather have someone spend an hour crushing my bones with a sledge hammer than go back one more time…sigh! This has resulted in my depression and my anxiety kicking in again, it always knows the WORST times to pay a visit. Hoping your run went well and that you have a better day today.

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