That Fucking Room
I spent so many years in depression that looking back now I don't know how I did survive. It's wild to think about. Half of my life was spent in a large room in an upstiars that was never completely finished nor taken care of. I barely had any heat in the winters, like legit no heat. You could walk into my room and see your breath. I learned how to stay warm. Now I overheat half the time and I'm not sure if it is from menopause hitting me or trauma...probably both. That room consumed me. It let me sulk in it, sleep away my life, be my disgusting self with no one walking in. I was an alcoholic for many years in that room. I wanted to die in that room, multiple times. I was abused in that room. I grew up in that room. I always came back to it...always in a worst state than last. Repainting the walls to restart my life again, only to end up back in that room repainting...restarting.