When things get dark, I get brighter. It’s in my nature, but I also work at it too. I refuse to allow feelings of desolation, sadness or worry rule my life. It’s not always easy but I make the effort.
I wasn’t always like that either. I’ve always been a happy sort but when I was alone I would analyze myself to death. I would make poor choices or make a mistake and then I would ponder, for hours, on how I just wasn’t good enough. For a long time it was almost like I enjoyed crawling in that dark hole. I would wait for it to come and then I would let myself fall into it, curling myself around the pit in my stomach that told me I deserved this.
Then it would pass and I would go about my life. No one really knew this about me. The happy face and jovial attitude I put on every morning kept them oblivious. I knew it wouldn’t be long until my dark friend came back for a visit and we would cuddle and reminisce. This sad cycle seemed to be on permanent repeat.
I’m not sure when it all started to change. There was no definitive moment when I said “Stop!”. Maybe I started keeping myself too busy to wallow in my room for hours. Perhaps I started making better choices limiting the fodder I had to ponder.
I know when things do happen and I start to feel the need to see my dark friend again, I resist. I still analyze the situation but I think of how it could be worse. It might be cliche, but I count my blessings and it works.
The anger and bitterness recedes. The day gets a little lighter.
I get a little brighter; and I move on.