Escaping Yourself

There was a day I truly believed that I could take on a army of Gladiators. 

I road my bike 10 miles a day, I went to the gym at 5am, I kick boxed throwing a roundhouse that would make heads turn. 

I could take a punch, I overcame bloody noses and only tightened my fists ready to rage out. 

Half Mexican and half Irish I grew up in the middle of drinking, drugging, fighting and F-ing. Yes, a little raw, a little honest but it was a sh!#  storm. 

I learned to be strong, my brother taught me how to fight young. 

My family taught me that weakness was death. You puff your chest, you suck it up and deal with it. You look the Devil in the eye and you don't blink.  

Rage..Oh could I fight. 110 pounds at 5'2 and the blood that ran through my veins was potent. It was my poison.  

I was my biggest Enemy and my biggest asset. 

But let me SAY THIS....

This world will make the strongest weak. Pain will knock the toughest on their knees. 

I have cried for 2 days straight. 

Most likely just like many of you. 

I can't ESCAPE myself. 

My Yesterdays. My Mistakes. My Blood. My Birth. 

My voice haunts me. Words destroy me. Confusion overcomes me. I feel buried, waves of anguish crash on top of me, I cry out, I beg for but a breath, a little light to help me see. I need direction. 

"....I think you are depressed..." Rex replies to my tear stained garble at church last night. 

I didn't want to talk. 8:55pm. I almost snuck out of the meeting with out speaking and "Rex" just had to ask why I was a "6" and not my normal high number, "9". 

I couldn't speak. I froze. My heart pounding, I tried to swallow and get out, I wanted to run, I am good at that but I am terrible at sharing my pain. 

I am supposed to be the leader. Strong. Wise. Audible. Confident. 

But I wasn't. I was broken, Hurt, So Hurt. 

Depression. When you can't even stand yourself. You can't Escape yourself. 

LOVE..Love hurts. 

Tears burn. 

You can't smile, laughter is foreign. Food is tasteless. Darkness becomes your lover. 

Anger, sadness, confusion wrestles you down. You are pinned in a Hell you can't escape, and something in you wants to stay there. 

You regurgitate ugly memories, mistakes long forgotten, you shuffle through your failures and forget your victories, successes and greatest accomplishments. 

Depression, maybe. 

Sober. I am left to Feel it ALL. I want to torpedo bomb the world my middle finger. I know, real Christlike..Another failure. 

What I don't want to do it RUN. 

What I need to do it RUN. 

I have prayed, I have cried out but I keep hearing "RUN"....

I know I need to release these voices screaming at me.

That's another problem with depression, you want to curl up in your misery. 

You know the things that might help but you don't want to do them. 

You want to just lay there and take the beating. You want to drown in your own tears.

RUN.. ANITA...RUN...

I sat on Laceys bed. Flat, emotionless. Lacey never sees me this way. "Can you just get dressed..." I asked Lacey. I didn't want to small talk. 

"I don't really feel like RUNNING Lacey..."

"I'm walking this to the top of the hill, I don't feel like running it." 

I didn't feel like anything and at the same time I felt everything. 

As we started running, we came to another hill. "Lacey, turn around lets run it again."

I wanted to suffer, I wanted to purge whatever HELL was inside me I wanted to physically hurt more. Deflect. Distract. 

And next thing I knew, "Well, if we are gong to run hills, this is what we are going to do...." Lacey made of a plan of suffering. 

YES Please. 

It was awful and delightful, a new misery. 

The heat wrapped around us as we panted up up up the hills. I felt small cries slip out, it hurt, MORE, I needed MORE. 

I raised myself up on my toes and pumped my arms. "UP"....I screamed as loud as I could at myself, secretly welcoming the pain and making myself fight harder. 

I wanted to cry, I wanted to scream, I felt the fight in me. "You Get up that HILL, you are not quitting ANITA, RUN...." 

6 miles. We ran hard. Lacey pushed me. "Anita, this is what we both needed..."

Wounded I wanted to withdrawal. 

This life will beat you down with a smile. It will knock your smile off your face with delight. 

Get back up, get back out there.

Fight, Recover. 

CRY, Kick and Scream, but don't stay there. 

Hurting hurts. 

Feeling hurts too. 

Feel it. 

Don't isolate to long, the voices uninterrupted will destroy you. 

You need a voice bigger than your own. 

When this world puts you on your knees, stay there, Pray. 

BUT then, You have to get UP and WORK, fight. 

"The LORD is near to the brokenhearted And saves those who are crushed in spirit." 

Psalm 34:18

Missing this "Anita"...But she's coming back. Broken hearts heal. Tears dry. 

Anita~