SCABs

This is not a sad SCAB

Fiona Tabastot

 

 

 

 

 

By @ftabastot

 

Christmas is a nightmare. Tasteless. Even chocolate.
I fake a smile for my family but I am as dead inside as the turkey on the table.
 
It’s been one year.
Facing my doctor, crying.
“Why do you cry?
– I don’t know.”
Serotonin. The molecules of happiness.
My body kills them all apparently. That’s why. It’s only chemistry.
I feel a like a junky every time I take my medication.
But there is a bit of light coming back inside me and I don’t want it to fade away.
 
Weeks go by.
I have such a stressful job. I love it. It keeps my mind busy.
Going out again. How could I have been seriously ignoring wine for so long?
I am not crying everyday anymore.
The future is still scary but I have to face reality and take some decisions. So I call Marc even if I am afraid of the answer.
I am singing in the shower again.
Work becomes my life. My life becomes work.
Money. Money. Money.
I don’t sing in the shower anymore.
I really need some change. Go somewhere as far away and as soon as possible.
Georgia’s country. Breathless landscapes and 3 times more sheep than people. It sounds like a dream.
Fuck everyone. I’ll send you a postcard.
 
Learning how to drive on the left side. Fishing my dinner. Surviving with no microwave and no internet. Jumping from a plane, climbing a mountain, pushing my limits. Living everyday as a new experience. Feeling as cool as Bear Grylls. Finding beauty in everything.
I was scared to go back to a normal life. What if reality was tasteless again?
Turns out it went well, better than well. I met amazing people, I share with them, I get better. Most of all I’m opening myself up a bit more everyday.
It’s been one year.
Probably the most difficult and yet the most beautiful year of my life.
I have learned so much.
I am still singing in the shower.
I still have dark days.
But the only thing I am scared of now when I wake up is having to dance at Town hall.

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