I'm Not Okay Today - DWC Magazine: Strong Women, Strong Voices

I'm Not Okay Today

 By Camille Lefebvre

I'm not okay today. The weight of yesterday’s scars feels heavier than usual. The laughter of new acquaintances and the casual chatter around me are like sharp needles, reminding me of the void where comfort once lived.

My heart races, caught in the chaotic dance of old fears and new hopes. I’m trying to smile, but it feels like wearing a mask that is too tight. Yet, I cling to the belief that the sky will clear, and that I am inching closer to the peace I seek.

I'm not okay today. The sight of an empty space where a cherished picture once hung sends a shiver through my soul.

It’s not just the loss of a photo but the fading echoes of a life that was never truly mine. Each corner of this new space seems to whisper reminders of what I left behind, and the silence is sometimes louder than the noise of my thoughts. But I remind myself that each day, I am crafting a new canvas where I am free to paint my own future.

I'm not okay today. The mirror reflects a face that has seen too much, too soon. The makeup doesn’t hide the exhaustion etched in my soul, nor the grief that has settled in my smile.

There are days when I feel like a ghost of my former self, wandering through the remnants of a broken past. But I hold on to the glimmers of hope that flicker in the depths of my heart, believing that each falling tear is a step toward healing, and every night is a chance for renewal.

I'm not okay today. The small, everyday tasks seem insurmountable, like mountains that rise higher with each attempt to climb them.

Cooking a simple meal feels like a monumental effort, and the thought of socializing feels like walking through a storm with no umbrella. Yet, I find solace in the small victories—each moment I rise, each breath I take, each step forward, however small, is my enduring hope for brighter tomorrows.

I'm not okay today. The fear of the unknown looms large, a shadow over every new experience and every tentative step I take toward the future.

The memories of past hurts and the uncertainty of what lies ahead create a tangled web of anxiety that I grapple with daily.

But even as I stumble, I hold on to the promise that each sunset brings a new sunrise. As darkness falls, so do the seeds of renewal. Every day is a chance to heal, to rise from the ashes of yesterday, and to turn the pain into a radiant hope.

I'm not okay today. But I will be.

 

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