”Quis hic locus, quae regio, quae mundi plaga?"

There are times like the past few days when it feels like my sky is about to tumble down. When the ground is not below, but rippling like water and surfing through the air in torrents of  black liquid. When doubt is an insect burying through my head and leaving me a lifeless carrion; taking extra special care to shred all the meat off my bones and leave me to the open air. And this was definitely a time where it felt like relapse wasn't just a distant shore but a desert island I'd washed up on.

But it wasn't. It's not me saying 'I'm cured! my anxieties have vanished and I'm ready to stop festering and get on with my life!' - That would be fucking stupid. They don't just evaporate like that. Its not me saying I've had a spiritual awakening and I have come to accept a deity as a saviour for helping me in my time of need. It was a spark that burst into a flame and has began to burn the prison I built around me.

I'm arming myself for it. The niggling at the back of my head was all for the better.

Life is an adventure that I've barely explored. I'm letting in the light after revelling in the dark for too long and I don't want to waste another second.

PS - the quote is from Seneca's Hercules Furens (The Mad Hercules), Act 5, line 1138. I originally heard it from the film Girl, Interrupted.