There are some days where I can look my demons straight in the face and tell them to piss off and they do and I celebrate those days.
There are other days when I can’t even glance their way without crumbling to my knees, falling into their grasp.
That doesn’t make me weak.
That doesn’t mean that the ways I choose to cope with my mental health are incorrect.
I’m still learning how to manage.
I am still writing up the plans for how I win this war.
Recovery is a game all in itself.
Some strategies work.
Some do not.
I am not on a schedule to get my shit together.
I am not in a race against anyone else who is in this shit storm too.
I must try to keep up the pace.
Daily I will manifest strength that gives me the courage to tell those demons to get the fuck out of my life.
I refuse to become a permanent lawn ornament in the toxic environment where my demons play jump rope with the veins that lead straight to my heart.
I am a warrior and I will not succumb to the monsters inside of my head.