An Excerpt from "Treading Water"
I can peel myself from my mattress, my 7x5 comfort zone. Its addictive adhesive appeal over my body lessens day by day.The saccharine succour becoming too sweet, too sickly.
I can stand as a small heaviness leaves my joints, my soul. The smallest of changes, a molecular lightness.
But the small changes are everything, I grip on to them, finger tips glowing white with the pressure of relief. Stars in the night of my dwindling suffering.
One day the voice was quieter, rasped from the months of shouting, but quieter. My heart was slightly looser, the serpent of self doubt growing tired of its failure to choke me.
One day I was brushing my teeth, with out the battle, no traversing of my mental no mans land. No fear, a teleportation. I new ease.
Lots of one days become lots of days and these are my days and I squeeze them to my chest. Not suffocating just safe. Tiny steps to whatever this feeling is. Not remission just better. These have been better days.