I have had this blog page for about a year now. I haven’t written much but in fact have thought about it quite a lot. Mostly I think that who am I to babble on and expect anyone to read it. But since the thought continues to present itself to me, I have decided to honor it and write. I am not sure the goal other than to listen to that quite voice. Perhaps to share some thoughts or perhaps to simply record them. Either way, welcome.
The last many, many months have been difficult ones for me. They have been dark~very dark. As I emerge from the darkness and feel happiness again, I do so with a certain amount of excitement but also trepidation. For I find that there is safety in the darkness. I am unable to accomplish much beyond simply being; a monumental and exhausting task I assure you. Disassociated, incapable, numb but somehow safe in the silence.
With help from various sources I find myself peeking over the edge of the hole, excited to see the light once again. Pleased to be able to brush myself off, to rediscover my strength, and realize that simply hanging on and being was enough and that’s okay. That as I feel something besides great sadness again I can be comfortable with the fact that depression is a part of who I am, a diagnosis that doesn’t define me but definitely affects me. It’s a lonely thing wrought with comfort and pain simultaneously.
I feel like I should share so that others may benefit, but am concerned that my private life should stay just that. As I dance with that notion, I think of a friend, a retreat and a theme song. I chuckle as I think of “I hope you dance” by Lee Anne Womack. This life I am living certainly is a dance, so I guess as much as dancing makes me uncomfortable…I guess I am indeed dancing. And really that’s not a bad thing.