Another Year

I was just now dozing and the fireworks outside the hotel woke me up. And just for a moment I was back There and my breath caught.

I’m awake now. My eyes are burning, and all the muscles in my neck and shoulders have reknotted. Sleep may come, or it may not. It’s only half past eight in the evening, and it feels a long road to the dawn.

It’s another year from Then. Another victory against Them, and another stretch since one of the semi-colon moments in the sentence of my life.

Tonight in the here and now I’m tired, and exhausted, but I’m still here, and loved, and supported. I feel no urge to flee and end all that. The shocks and flashbacks are… endurable, and they will subside. I’ve had them long enough and understand them enough from counselling to recognise and trudge past them again.

They’ll be back, but so will I. I have too much to live for in my loves and family and friends – even if the black dog does his best to sometimes obscure that. I’m stubborn, diamond-cored from the pressures that got me here, and that’s where we are.

About Tim Maidment

Writer, House Husband, Library Person, Raconteur, Poly, Queer and Bon Vivant. You were expecting something simple?
This entry was posted in idle musings, letting off steam, mental health and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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