waging a war when the enemy is yourself

I fought a war today. I tackled hidden battles raging beneath my skin, standing valiantly against my opponent. I wrestled with anxiety, shot down thoughts of hopelessness, riddled negativity with bullets, and clashed with the jagged edges of apathy.

I fought a war today. And all the while I felt my resistance crumbling. With each passing moment, I felt another chink in my armor, another crack in the walls that I have so carefully constructed. But while I may not be unscathed, I am still here.

I fought a war today. I struggled to escape from the clutches of sleep, so laden with false comfort, so full of the promise of nothing, so safe from the threat of combat. But I broke free from captivity, and I patched up my wounds, and I counted my scars. I soldiered on.

I fought a war today. I learned that my opponent does not intend to fight fair, waiting to strike when I am most vulnerable. Forcing me to steel my skin, to strengthen my resolve, and to always be vigilant.

I fought a war today. And I am tired, tired, tired. But still, I press on. Still, I pick up my sword. Still, I spar with my enemy. And still, I make it through another day.

I fought a war today. I fought the same war today that I fought yesterday, and that I will fight again tomorrow, and next week, and next year. Maybe even the rest of my life. I still cannot tell whether I am on the winning or losing side, but I am fighting.

I am always fighting.

—waging a war when the enemy is yourself