Grey

I woke up and the world was white.

The first snow. The first day of the season where the ground is covered in a layer of frozen glitter.

This is usually the most wondrous and blessed day of the year for me.
The day that brings me to tears and lights a smile on my face. My cheeks rosy, and my demeanor happy and bright as John and I, bundled up, walk out through the icy world.

But not this year.

My depression hit in full force last night. Coupled with an overwhelming anxiety that I haven't had in a long time. The kind where I woke up, screaming in panic. I found no rest.

I could barely pull myself out of bed, but I have obligations to fulfill nearly every day this month. I have no choice but to push myself to move, to think, to breathe.

So, I'm sitting here. Writing this out. Waiting for dogs to finish their breakfast. Something to keep me from collapsing on the ground in utter despair.

I look out the window and at the snow, blessed and lovely, but I don't see it all. I only see shades of grey.