Sometimes regression isn’t about being happy.
Sometimes regression is being so mad at the day you had and the people that are mean and the world for being cruel that you can’t help but get small at the end of the day and seek comfort and feel frustrated at yourself for wanting to regress and be safe.
Sometimes regression is having an ugly meltdown and crying about things that are happening and things that happened before and things you don’t want to have happen again.
Sometimes regression is the last defense against a depressive episode, the hope that nostalgia will give you the feelings you need.
Sometimes regression is coming down from panic and anxiety swirling, self soothing or being held by someone while you’re catching your breath and shakily drinking water.
Sometimes regression is not wanting anybody to touch you at all, wanting nobody to hurt you or overstimulate you or make you feel like you physically exist at all.
And sometimes regression is letting your little self drink the water you need, eat the food you deserve, put your face in the sunlight and do whatever you need to do to keep going. Sometimes it’s letting yourself sit and breathe. Sometimes you share that space with all of your feelings, simple and complicated alike while you’re little. Sometimes it’s just about feeling safe. ˚✧₊⁎💛⁎⁺˳༚
