depression
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I arrived home from a visit to my home town and found a little package from an organization called Find Your Anchor. It was the most beautiful little package. I am in love with it. This little blue box is filled with reminders of what there is to live for, and why I am a
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“There are low points. There are going to be low points. And if you can take me at the high points, then you also need to take me at the low points. That’s what I have to say.” My daughter uttered these words with passion and much arm movement a few moments ago. She was
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It’s been difficult to write. That’s not entirely true. It’s been difficult to write something that doesn’t sound like suicidal ideation blended with complaint and condemnation and a little bit of protein powder to make an “I fucking hate everything and everyone and can’t remember why I keep trying at life smoothie”. And I am
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There are days that hope cannot come from within. The spirit of the wounded gives up sometimes, whether it is desired or no. I’m trying to find a way to inspire that spirit and enter the fray once more. But I haven’t found it today. I think it might need to come from elsewhere. I
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I can’t write this week. I’ve tried several times. Two or three paragraphs in, it falls apart and the message I meant to speak becomes a ball of words with no real significance. I’m too tangled up inside, I think, to be able to present something linear and coherent on the outside. I’m a mess.
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Sometimes, when I am explaining my symptoms to a new doctor or physical therapist, I use this expression of “dead leg”. It isn’t the pins and needles feeling that we commonly associate with numbness. It is more of a lack of a sensation than a sensation. It is like that portion of my body is
Learning To Be Whole 