I shaved my legs today.
Yeah. In the grand scheme of life, that’s not something to brag about, but for Blue Brandi, it’s an accomplishment. Over the last few months I’ve been teetering on the brink of extreme sadness, and more often than I’d like to admit, I’ve stumbled through days pushing with every inch of my life to just.get.through.it. Earlier this year, a switch flipped in my brain, flooding my mind with terrible memories that have been working overtime to remind me that I don’t deserve love, I am ruined, broken, and otherwise not worthy.
Depression is a dirty, filthy liar.
Except that, sometimes though, depression is convincing. And like a possessive lover that uses mind tricks to control, depression has had me questioning every move I make, scared to bare myself, anxious about going out and being around people because I’m ruined, broken, and otherwise not worthy. Everything from the clothes that I’ve been wearing to the way I’ve been styling my hair have been dictated by the deception of depression, low self-esteem, and an overall sense of blue.
Your legs are too fat to wear those shorts.
Everyone can see your bald spot when you wear your hair like that.
No one thinks you’re interesting. Why don’t you just stop talking?
That mom is way more fun than you.
That guy’s wife is probably normal.
You’re not smart enough.
What have you actually succeeded at?
Today, though, I did my hair, ate breakfast and lunch, went to the coffee shop to work, unplugged to watch Ayva dance for an hour, and started dinner.
I prayed for my family, and for my friends.
And I shaved my legs.