A message to myself for the hard days:

Hey there, beautiful soul, I see you. I notice that you're not okay even though you keep dragging on and faintly smiling. That generosity that you give in the form of a smile to others doesn't travel all the way up to your desperate eyes. I see that and I stop to lend a heart, ear, hand for you. There are no words to express the sticky, overbearing sadness that you feel today. And that's okay because tears are more extravagant today. They mean more to your soul today.

I ask myself why and try to pinpoint from which direction the pain is coming. My mind swirls with all the ways I've been hurt in the past to see if one of them matches the emotions I'm feeling today. To see if I can heal that memory today. But the more I swirl, the more I judge myself for not being able to pull myself out. Why aren't I strong enough to do this on my own?

My headstrong armor is used throughout the day. I don't stop doing. Stopping is scary because the feelings catch up quickly. And I don't want to be engulfed in something I don't have the map to get out of. I don't rest. I don't stop. I don't let a few things tumble off my to-do list. I juggle it all during the darkest rainstorm that only I can witness.

There's always this nagging that I'm doing something wrong in life. That everything I do just can't possibly be good enough. Even when depressed, I still force myself to go to classes and talk to people and clean my room and go to office hours. Why am I good at depression, suffering? Why can't I let a few things slide off my shoulders? Oh right, because I'll judge myself for not being able to handle every little thing life throws at me. Geez, self-compassion is not over-rated.

Here's what you need to tell yourself today: "I accept the condition I am in right now. I accept that I can barely move or take notes. I am doing my best today. This 10% is all I have to give today and it's enough."

Just saying these things lets my body unconsciously let in deep breaths of air. And I let out a good sigh. And I tell myself that maybe I will be OK.