A Little Bit Stuck

I will always remember that the springtime was extravagantly beautiful, the hillsides outrageously yellow, everything in raucous bloom, and I was somehow separate from it all. I missed the cycles of the moon, the push and pull of tides, the blazing of stars, the shifts of light and changes in the sky as days lengthened. Bright yellow orioles came to the honeysuckle, spreading their wings in sumptuous flashes of color.

But I have never been so sick and scared and stuck. It isn’t just the recovery from surgery; it’s debilitating insomnia and crippling anxiety, my own special demons. And I wish I had a more inspiring tale to tell you, but if you’re wondering where I’ve been…so have I. “You’re fading away,” said my husband in dismay.

It’s a long, strange, still-in-progress journey. I was doing better for a while, then went in the wrong direction, then, after four nights of not sleeping, I reached what I was certain was the low point of my life.

And yet somehow, if you get to the low point and survive, you realize that you are more durable than you thought, and you rally a bit to fight back. So much depends on sleep.

If I can just get some rest, I’m ready for whatever is required. I will have to be extremely disciplined and work hard and postpone a lot of good times, but this will be the year I dedicate to saving my life. I almost didn’t know that.

I realize this is all very general, and I’ll add to it later, but I’m too tired at the moment. I just thought I’d check in, because one of my favorite reader-friends was worried that perhaps I’d perished, particularly when my blog went inexplicably offline.

So more to follow. It’s good for me to write. It means I am becoming myself again. And I’ll spare you images of me at my most pitiable, but l have some funny vignettes to offer and some glints of light, and I’ve learned a few things. So I’ll be back. Is anyone still out there?

If drinking is bitter, change yourself to wine...that’s what Rilke said.

Or,

If the earthly no longer knows your name,
whisper to the silent earth. I’m flowing.
To the flashing water say: I am.

Yesterday I walked defiantly up the canyon in a howling wind, touched a tree. I’m in here somewhere.

 

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