When does it end?

There are days where I feel the progress I’ve made

Where the road I’ve walked and how far I’ve come is tangible and I have proof. But other days, I feel lost

I feel like there is no getting out of the dark hole that is depression. The days where I let comparison steal my joy. Where I let social conformity tell me that I’m not enough. That I haven’t accomplished enough

Days where the tag on a piece of clothing make me question my hard work. Days where I revert back to skipping meals despite knowing how unhealthy that is; and despite knowing the consequences of my actions. The days in which I ask myself: when does it end?

It might not. And that’s ok. Because the woman that I am was forged out of trauma and tragedy.

Out of a need to break cycles of toxicity.

Out of a need to do better and to be better

So, even though I fall into this dark hole more often than I’d like, I’m strong enough now to find the light.

Above all, if one day she is nothing but a memory, I want her to know what self love is.

When does it end? I don’t know but I do know this, there is a light at the end of the tunnel.