I was laying in bed Sunday, 5:00pm, and as I looked over to my open window, something moved inside of me.
From where I was laying on my bed, the way the curtains were blowing over, and my groggy mind created a perfectly white scene. I kid you not, all I saw was white outside of my window. I dared not move. I was flying. I was in the sky. My feet were not on the ground. Well, at least not in my mind and heart and soul.
You see, I have recently decided to take up a battle against my almost-life-long anxiety and depression.
And I always, always, always feel like gravity is too much for me. Like I am being forced to the ground more and more each day. I can't even stand. Down on my knees is even too high. I am forced to my stomach and back by gravity, the weight of my own skin and bones deceiving me.
But not at 5:00pm on Sunday.
I don't know how long I laid there, but I was scared to move, scared to tempt the gravity, scared to tempt my own mind.
Because in those few (or many) moments I was shifting.
Look, it probably sounds crazy - or maybe it doesn't. Maybe you too suffer from deception by your own body (also known as anxiety and/or depression, or any other mental illness).
In those white, breezy, beautiful moments, I was free.
It's not the cure, and as soon as I moved, rolled over out of bed, gravity hit, and that something special was over. Regardless, I am thankful for those tiny moments. Those tiny moments are victories.
Remember that. Tiny victories are still victories. Heck, every day is a damn victory when you choose to just open your eyes ONCE. Victory. Victory.
I'm going to keep looking for the sky, I'm going to keep trying to fly. Victory.