As the days of autumn dwindled to a meager few and winter began its rule, I received a visitor.

Cloaked in the darkness, he remained unbeknownst to me for a long period of time. He lurked in shadowy corners, seemingly harmless but like a parasite. Because although I was blissfully unaware of him, his mere presence was slowly sucking the life out of me.

And as my early winter excitement and fascination came to an end, I was jolted into reality. The reality was that I wasn’t myself, not with this unwelcome visitor making himself at home. For weeks, I wished him away, but I could never have imagined how deeply rooted he was in my life.

He spoke promises of comfort in giving up. He told me nothing mattered anymore; he made me wonder what I really had to live for. He wrapped himself around me, clouding my vision. In his cold embrace, all I could see was a tunnel with no light at the end.

He spoonfed me lies that I would never be happy, that this would last forever, that this is what my life was going to look like from now on. He sucked the joy out of everything that normally made me happy. He took away everything I loved.

For a short time, this visitor released his grip on my life, tricking me into believing that everything was ok now. But like the everlasting winter, he came back except this time his hold on me was even tighter.

I tried to fight back, to find the light, but it was so much easier to just give up. The visitor made me—someone who cares too much about everything—struggle to care about the most important things.

I couldn’t see an end to the sadness, and that left me incapacitated. I remained in my bed, wrapped not only in my blankets but in the frightening arms of this visitor who refused to leave.

There’s nothing worse than sadness without end.

I put a mask on, allowing only hints of the truth to escape through the cracks. And I fought for every glimmer of hope I could hold onto, a dim flicker of light in the abyss of my visitor’s shadow.

The darkness was all consuming and terrifying. I knew it couldn’t really last forever, but it was hard to remind myself of that. It was hard to hold onto the hope that things could get better.

Finally, she came.

Spring, wrapped in an abundance of sunlight, smelling of flowers. I ran to her, throwing myself into her arms.

She soothed me, comforted me, and reminded me that there was so much to be happy about. How could I be sad when the sun was shining and the birds were chirping?

Spring brought back everything the darkness had robbed me of. She was full of light, the thing I needed the most.

But the scars that the cold visitor had left were not so easily healed. Even the happiest moments were tainted with a lingering hint of his presence. A quiet voice remained constant in my head, persistent as ever, asking a daunting question: would I ever really be ok again?

Spring’s comforting touch brings me back, forcing me to stop asking those scary and harmful questions. But it’s hard to let them go.

I am so broken.

But I am healing. I will always be healing. I will always be growing. Every dark and desolate moment is a chance for me to grow, to become more, to recognize that I will never be perfect because I am human. I can get better.

I will get better. And I’ll be ok.