I awoke with a smile on my face that morning. I stretched with feline laziness before rolling effortlessly from the bed. I disengaged the alarm before it had a chance to sound and tip-toed up the stairs to the bathroom. It was four in the morning, and I was the only housemate awake. I gingerly fought with the microwave door to open soundlessly as I prepared blueberry oatmeal, and settled down to my laptop to sip my coffee and write: it was peace.

It is gone now, my peace. That morning, two weeks ago, was the very last time that life felt right.

"It's just so ironic," I told Mom last night as I prepared to face the desolate corridors of my dreams. "I felt like my life was well oiled when this happened...I felt like things were finally clicking into place. I felt secure and happy. I liked my morning schedule and it set the tone for so many happy days."

"So get back to your morning schedule."

I try. I get up and force myself to drink coffee. I keep thinking, "C'mon...you love coffee! Have another cup! Another! Another!" I finish the pot of decaf every morning and wonder what to do next. I try to convince myself that my hyper optimism hasn't gone on sabbatical. I open to a blank page in my journal to write, and I can't stand to see the words that flow when I raise the dam. I'm not ready with the sandbags yet. I update this website, and I find it easier to relay conversations or commercials than to admit that I'm struggling, faltering.

Mom knows. Mom knows and she says, "Maybe the test of your strength is going to be to find humor in life even while it's caving in around you." I feel like I'm hovering over the side of a cliff, and my hands are bruised and busted as they cling to the jagged blades of rock. It hurts to be where I am right now. It's going to hurt a lot more if it's ever going to get better, if I ever get the urge to climb back up.

Perhaps I will need to force that urge. "C'mon...you love the joy of life! Have another look at its beauty! Another! Another!" And, hopefully, the pot will not empty, and I will have no reason to stop. I know the path, but I struggle to comprehend the way.