Some days just feel longer than others. Some days feel harder to accomplish. Some days the dread is overwhelming. Some days are spent in the hamster wheel getting anxious about being anxious. Some days I could spend crying. Some days I’m not sure if everything is okay or if I’m just numb again. Some days my spirit has no wings. Some days the calls and myriad emotions that tag along with them follow me everywhere. Some days I wake up already deflated. Some days start hours before I get out of bed. Some days I feel like there are so few people I can truly relate to that I don’t know where I fit into that bigger picture anymore. Some days my batteries are just dead and I’m humiliated at what little I have to give. Some days seem to be telling me to just give up and get over it already. Some days I’m churning in agitation because I’m sick of feeling like this. Some days I can’t seem to move as fast as everything needs me to. Some days feel like I should have just left them alone.

Some days are just hard.

Other days I feel hopeful. Other days I see fluidity in place of rigidity. Other days the gratuity I have can raise that wingless spirit high. Other days sticking to the plan becomes a triumph of will and not a catastrophe of anxiety and distraction. Other days I feel strong willed and spirited. Other days I’m full of energy and focus and I accomplish things and feel useful. Other days the stars align and I master my tasks skillfully and efficiently. Other days I’m proud and unafraid to face being afraid. Other days I look up. Other days I engage in the present. Other days I get so fucking sick of some days that my anger helps me stay the course. Other days I see how much I have grown since some of those days.

Other days are what the struggle is for.

Every day those close to me inspire me to keep trying no matter what kind of day it is. Some of them need me and some of them just need me to be me but either way I’m not broke of purpose.