Battlefield

Every single day of life is a battle I choose fight (or not). Every single step, every decision I make goes towards deciding the results of the day's battle. From the minute I step out of bed in the morning, I have a choice; to fight with my fullest strength, or like yesterday, to give up, before I even started.
Yesterday was a day lost, lost to myself, to the bottomless sadness I let myself fall into, impossible thereafter to get out of, no matter how hard I tried. For no particular reason, tears welled and overflowed and I could not muster a single smile for friends. I went into bed completely defeated.
This morning, I felt like I had a bit of my strength back. I lugged on my armour and went to work. It was hard, but it seemed like I made it through today a bit better than I did yesterday.
Maybe there are just days like that, where, without rhyme or reason, I fall completely flat on my face. And afterwards, spent, wounded and defeated, I try again the next day to get up on my feet again. Maybe it'll take more than a day to lick my wounds, to recover and get better. As I work hard on that, I hope the people closest to me will, without judgement, harsh words or scornful looks, understand that and give me a helping hand or a healing hug along the way.

(I am thankful for a dear friend who, after seeing that I was not so ok yesterday, asked me if I would like to go sit outside after work because the weather was good. And we sat at the port, watching the sun set, looking at the ferries departing with people going on holidays, once in a while chatting a little about nothing in particular. There were no further questions about why I was feeling so terrible. I was grateful for his reassuring company even though I must have not been any fun to be around yesterday and was so glad I wasn't alone when I was feeling less than chirpy. Thank you.)