It's been a minute since I've written anything. To be honest, it's been a minute since I've felt like being verbal. I've spent the past couple of months feeling very introspective, in a "I don't want to talk," "I don't have the energy to analyze it," I just need to let this simmer" kind of way. It felt like the right thing to do and so I just went with it. But now I'm ready to close this chapter and move on. However, to go forward, I have to go back a bit. Here's what happened... I stumbled into 2019 feeling worn down and not myself. My #1 goal was to value myself enough to pursue better health to increase my quality of life. It was a rough road. I was constantly sick, missing work and even in the hospital a couple times throughout the first half of the year. By the time June rolled around, I was in pain and vomiting all the time and exhausted from just getting out of bed. I remember getting o...
I fell down a terrible rabbit whole. Wait... While this is true, I am getting ahead of myself a bit. Let me try again. First I’ll indulge in a little self-deprecation. In honor of my dad who thought blonde jokes were the funniest jokes ever told (which I have grown to understand that they are actually very offensive) Here’s a joke that describes me recently: Three blondes walk into a building…You’d think at least one of them would’ve seen it! But I digress… Do you ever suddenly realize the universe, the powers that be, god, (whatever you want to call it), SOMETHING is trying to get your attention and you’ve been missing the hints for a while? I like to kid myself into thinking that I am “aware” and “in tune” with things. But, there are times that I blithely and quite literally, “blondely” miss things that are practically slapping me in the face. I think it actually started subtlety, a few years ago…...
I can see myself as though from a position above – a watcher, who can not only see the breadth and ferocity of my situation, but too, the depth of raw emotion that clouds me from my own ability to see. I am lost in my vision of even myself. I am crushed by a pressing weight of angst as it spreads through my chest causing pins and needles to crawl and twist up my neck thus creating the desperate need for me to gasp for air – pulling it in over the hot coals that reside in my chest. I struggle as though breathing through sand, but I drag in a raged breath. I gasp and draw not enough air – only enough to sustain life; only enough to feel the agony of my breath as it catches on the sharp edges protruding from my heart. Each snag makes my soul cry out in despair. But there is no stopping the pain, for it is also coursing through my blood – a river of molten desperation, restricted in flow and building pressure. My closed eyes bul...
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