Of Course
I’ve hit blog block again, a form of writer’s block that sets in just as I belly up to my laptop to share my life in print, on the screen, for everyone to read. Maybe I’m blocked because I don’t have anything to say but it’s more likely I don’t have anything to say that I want people to actually read or hear or know. Sometimes it’s hard to write and publish a post, not knowing what will happen or what others will think. I want blogging to be a conversation but in most cases it’s not. That’s what makes it draining and rewarding at the same time. Every word, every moment, is for me and suddenly, with the click of a button, my words become a moment that belong to someone else.
My mental and emotional states are up and down like a yo-yo these days. The frequent vacillation of both can almost certainly be traced to the amount of time I spend looking at Twitter. The more I read articles and comments the worse I feel and the darker I think. The more I focus on things I can control, such as the cleanliness of my office or the healthiness of my diet, the lighter and more optimistic I feel. I can’t look away from the state of the world, it’s too important, but it’s also not healthy for me to stare at it constantly, without blinking, until my eyes my water so much I can’t see anything anyway. So, I close my eyes and rest sometimes before resuming my watchful waiting.
I want to believe that love will heal us, whatever love means and whatever healing means. I know we love and heal in moments and maybe that’s all we really have. Can we be healed overall, forever, feeling loved and healed every second? Probably not. Can we be healed one moment at a time so there is an up for every down? Yes, yes, I think we can. Healing happens when we’re not watching and waiting for it. Love infiltrates our lives slowly, over time, until one day we look around and realize we are loved and we are healing and gosh darn it, we just might make it after all.
I used to be depressed often, for extended periods of time, mostly alone and mostly at home. Clinical depression without a clinician is no way to live. I have no doubt medication would have helped but I never let myself ask for that type of intervention. Instead, I tried to work through it on my own, sometimes with success and sometimes with nothing to show for my efforts except exhaustion. I had a breakthrough a few years ago when suddenly all of the pieces of my life came crashing together and I saw the nearly completed puzzle in front of me. It wasn’t so much an, “ah-ha!” moment as it was an, “oh, of course,” moment. Of course that is the root of my issues, of course that is why, of course, of course, of course. I took my completed puzzle to a counselor where she confirmed, “why yes, of course,” and helped me work through the toughest parts. Love, care, and boundaries help me heal, one moment at a time.
Here I am, working through my blog block, one word, one sentence, one thought at a time. This time spent in a stream of consciousness is healing, just wading and waiting until the current picks up. I want to believe love will heal us. I want to believe we can heal ourselves. I want to believe we can heal each other. At the right time, in the right moment, with the right pieces, of course we can.
Thank you for sharing your stream of conscious with us Courtney. It makes me feel less alone. The chaos that is churned up by the Tweeter in Chief and social media as a whole, makes me grieve next level for my mom. I didn’t understand why suddenly, twice a day, I wanted to call my mom. And then I go through that nano-second of she’s still alive and then the shatter that she is not. Grief is an ever evolving dick. I finally realized I always called my mother when things weren’t right, when life did not feel right. Thank you. I haven’t had anyone to talk to about all of this and your risk just allowed me to.
Thank you for your risk Janette! My blog is your blog. If you want to write your stream or story I’d be happy to share it here. Life doesn’t feel right often these days but I’m sure it feels even less right when you can’t call your Mom. I don’t know that grief. I don’t think I truly know grief yet. You are not alone. We are not alone. Sometimes we just have to feel like we are. Thank you so much for reading and sharing!
All I know is our stories are different and yet they are not. I am very proud of you and your commitment to sharing your journey. I find it very inspiring. Now go on with your bad self. ?