I put my clothes on every morning like they were a suit of armor. Armor that has helped protect me my whole life. Armor that makes me powerful.
I learned how to put it on each day when I was young. Younger than I can remember. It was natural for me.
It protected me. From bad things like emotions and healing overtime. But to make up for it, my armor gave me the gift of depression and anxiety.
Weak spots would appear every now and then, but they were bandaged quickly. It wasn't enough to mend the armor but it would manage.
Until the day it didn't…
Until the day it crumbled…
And the damn broke…
And it all came rushing out.
No control over emotions.
My armor had failed me.
I had to admit defeat. My mind and body were telling me that I couldn't hold on to that armor weighing me down anymore. I needed help.
But it was so hard to ask.
My anxiety said that the Dr would think I was crazy, the counselor would say that I was faking, and my family would be disappointed in me.
But I didn't listen to it. I knew I needed help.
So I asked for it. And now, every week, I'm learning how to put my armor back on.
The right armor.
The one that will give me strength when I need it and understanding when I can't do things I think I should.
The one that will comfort me when I'm feeling depressed and anxious.
The one that will love me when I don't love myself.
It's taking awhile to do, two years so far and I'm still not quite there. But healing takes time and I have a lot of time to make up for.
For now I'll put on my suit of armor every morning, the pieces I have. Because the more I use it the stronger it becomes.
And the better my armor protects me.