‘Better’ in itself can be used to mean so many things, but it always suggests that something has improved in comparison to how it was earlier. So, when I say I am better, it means that I am not doing as bad as I was doing yesterday or in the past. But it doesn’t mean that I am doing as well as I used to at some point in time. I am not on cloud number nine, but I am definitely up in the air somewhere; probably sitting on a tree branch and swinging my legs, letting the wind embrace me. It’s a good place to be. Not as bad as the days where I am crawling around inside a dark cave, trying to find some air to breathe, hoping at least a firefly would fly by, giving me some hope of life and the world that’s waiting outside. It is not as high as jumping from one cloud to another, not fearing the fall but soaring where the wind takes me. It’s just ‘better’. But, better is good. Better is what I yearn for. Better is what I wish I could be every single day.
Better is when I don’t feel that the world is closing in around me, that I am responsible for everything that goes wrong around me. Better is when I don’t believe all the lies about me the black dog feeds me, and when I can list at least two good things about me. Better is when I know I am trying, and cutting myself some slack. Better is when I remember the person I used to be, before a dark veil fell between me and the mirror I see myself in. It is when I feel like I can breathe again and treasure the little joys. Better is when I can look into my future and not be scared of hoping for more, of dreaming.
Recently, I was telling my therapist about a good day I had had. I told her how I didn’t let my insecurities keep me from connecting with other people, how I managed to focus on the world around me, to make little efforts to make things around me better, and forget the darkness I always feel that I carry about me; how I didn’t let anxieties and awkwardness get in the way of conversations and relationships, how I was kinder to myself and how it felt liberating. I told her that, “that is the person I want to be, the person I was on that day.” To which she remarked, “Child, you are that person!” She made me realize that I am not myself on those darkest days when I couldn’t even crawl out of bed; that this glimmering light that shines once in a blue moon is who I really am. This thought in itself helped me hope a little, and gave me something to hold on to on my darkest days. When things start clouding up around me, I try to remember her words; “You are that person!”, and I try to remember that person, and strive harder to become her.
