A cloud hangs over her. A storm constantly rumbles in the distance. Rain, lightning, and thunder threaten every moment. Every day she is wrapped in the cloud of depression, the storm of anxiety.
Some days, it’s a gentle rain, the sadness soaking slowly into her bones. She walks through life soaked, weighed down by the heaviness of despair.
Other days it’s a mist, maybe a fog. Though it doesn’t feel as heavy, it clouds her judgment. The negativity hangs around her. It skews everything within her sight. Happy moments can’t be seen or felt clearly because the tiny droplets distort her view. She only sees the hard—anything good has been blurred.
At times, the storm rages with lightning flashes of frightening thoughts. All that could go wrong illuminated by the bright light. Loud roars of thunder shake her soul—all the what-ifs, and fears, and doubts ringing so loudly she can’t hear anything else.
She walks through life with this cloud around her. It blocks any hint of sunshine.
She knows those around her feel its warmth, but she’s stuck beneath her cloud—cold, wet, heavy, and defeated.
Those around her see the cloud and fear the storm. Tiny wisps of the cloud drift toward anyone who gets too close. The negativity threatens to block their own sunshine. It’s hard to be near her for fear of being sucked into the cloud, swept away by the storm.
They want to help, to support her, to save her. But the lightning is too bright and the thunder too loud for them to reach her—their voices of love and reason lost in the sound of the storm. And so they walk away, avoiding the cloud and storm in an attempt to keep themselves dry and safe. They leave her behind. Alone. Stuck inside the cloud to withstand the storm on her own.
She longs to step out from under its power. But the cloud and energy of the storm are too strong. It traps her, consumes her.
In a strange way, it feels safe. It’s all she knows now. And any attempt to step out from under it and into the sunlight feels so uncomfortable and strange. In order to pull herself from its force, she must reveal what it’s been hiding. She must confront the feelings the cloud and storm pour out day after day. The work is so hard and her body—already bearing the heavy weight of being soaked to the core and fearful of the thunder and lightning—simply doesn’t have the strength to step out of its atmosphere.
And so she sits beneath it. Walks beneath it. Lives beneath.
Depression hangs over her like a dark cloud while the storm of anxiety, with its flashes of lightning and rumbles of thunder, penetrates each moment of her life. It’s not really living anymore. But she exists within it.