Rainy days and wednesdays.

I thought I wrote a poem about it already,
but as I'm flipping through your pages,
I notice days are missing.

That's what happens with depression;
it confuses, and ultimately steals
any understanding of time.

It took nearly three hours to
get out of bed today,
and an hour more to eat.
As much as my bed keeps me safe,
it holds me back too.

But I challenged myself,
facing the rain and gloom,
encountering an ounce of healing.

I went to my favorite spots,
and though I hardly recognized myself,
I felt like I was somehow a person.

A soft lavender stuffed bunny
was hidden on a sale rack
at a nearby store,
and I took her home.

The small library closest to me,
just one of my safe places,
was surprisingly empty.
I sat down in a leather chair I
imagined a grandfather would own,
then moved to a table and
colored a paper with Totoro smiling.

The night already feels less daunting,
my heart less dreary...

and I hope, I'm not alone in my
dreams tonight.

I hope the loneliness won't try to
gnaw at any sense of comfort I've found.

I hope that returning home
won't make me feel less safe.