The good wolf and the bad wolf exist separately. I can see them as two, not permanently enmeshed as one. The bad wolf exists inside depression, anxiety, eating disorders, and trauma. Not that I am a bad person for having to struggle with these things but that I can accept grace, mercy, and love while I wrestle with those things. Everything can coexist inside me and I can work towards living.

This is not my fault. My brain chemicals are not my fault. This struggle is not my fault. I choose to consistently show up because I want desperately to figure out how to coexist with everything that is a part of me and let it all be a part of me.

Die, my inner voice whispers as I walked last night. And many nights before. But I didn’t want to die. I wanted to be alive: the instructions of depression are so loud I need help talking back. Frequently.

I don’t give grace to myself; I receive it. Another lesson in reaching out—this time to God.

We will get through another day; the word “we” lets me sleep. I am not in this alone, and for that I am forever grateful.

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