Being content

Took zero pictures yesterday. One of those days. Work, home to George, dinner in front of the TV and finally the last episode of Westworld.

I felt content. Its one of those feelings that are easy to overlook when you dream of happiness and adventure every day. But i remember when i was deepest in depression. I didnt dream of happiness, could barely remember the feeling. I dreamt of being content. Of waking up without that crushing sadness or grey numbness. Of getting through an entire day without crying in a bathroom. Of eating an ice cream without the overwhelming need to throw it all up to battle my demons.

And im here. Yesterday i woke to a day of all of those things. Joked with my colleagues at work, potted in the garden and snuggled up next to George on the sofa. Ate my ice cream and fell asleep in the arms of someone i love.

On my darker days i fear the numbness and hide from the feeling with big smiles. But, they are few and far apart and at the moment all my demons are held at bay. There is a long way to spiral down and im in a very happy place.

So i keep floating through this summer of endless warm days and sunshine existing in this bubble of content.

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