”She tried, she cried, she died…”
I can still hear the laughter echoing in that small room where the broken sat and shared a fleeting moment of joy.
I was part of that broken puzzle, varying pieces of life surrounding me.
We laughed at the sound of that quote, because it represented the daily fight of all of us so well; an ode to a legacy to come.
What an eventful group therapy session (yes this is an account of one of many mind transforming moments I have had as a patient at a psychiatric facility; team ‘no shame’).
I haven’t written in over a year.
Odd you say? Well not to me, because writing was becoming more of a chore than a therapeutic release of brokenness.
But, here I am once again, finding solidarity in my old love.
So, this post isn’t about why I haven’t written in a while, but more about my journey since I stopped typing over a year ago.
Am I still struggling with depression?
Will I ever get better?
But, I can’t help but hear those six words settle in my thought process, the words that sum up life for me this past year.
”She tried, she cried…”
Oh, I’m still hanging on like the little engine that could, yet after all of the trying and crying, I’m still fighting everyday.
”She tried, she cried, she died”
…Yet I’m still living.
At one point in this journey with depression, I didn’t know what living meant anymore. But, I’m still living inspite of being entangled in turmoil.
Those six words represent a legacy I want to personify one day, but for now, I am in the land of the living, very much struggling mentally, but living.
So, cheers to this past year of ‘living’, and I’m living to tell the world that…
”She tried, she cried, she lived”