Finally around 4 or 5 in the morning, as the birds and traffic noises start, I usually slip into a heavy trance. The kind of coma that leaves you utterly exhausted when you wake. I know I need to get up. But my eyelids are painfully nailed shut. I cry for someone to help me shake off this suffocating sleep but my throat is parched and my tongue too tired to utter a sound. I feel I'm drowning in drowsiness. My brain registers remotely that I need to move but the lead in my limbs can't push off the hundreds of demons that sit on my chest, choking the breath from my body, forcing me back into the fog.
The themes of bad dreams like vines around my wrists try piercing my veins. I feel the bed swallowing me whole, again. All the pressure, I feel I could explode. I fight. I fight. I fight. I try. I cry. Finally tears escape my stubborn eyes and dissolve whatever evil spell had them sealed shut against the morning light.
But the fight has left me breathless, drained and ill. I'm supposed to rise and shine and charge into the day light and prove myself.
Myself. I don't even know who I am. I'm a tired, hollow shell. A body with barely enough life in it to muster a smile for the sleeping angels, peacefully cured up in their beds.
And that's why I fought like villain to escape the clutches of depression. Because these little babies need a mother. My little children need a smiling mom to help them get their day started with kisses and sweet whispers.
Though my soul hangs heavily, limp inside my chest I must smile. Kisses and smiles. Kisses and smiles will help me make it through today, again.
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