Winter is hard for me.
This year, it’s not hard as in, “I have sunk into a depression that despairs of life so all my energy is put toward plowing on.” So that’s good.
But it’s still hard.
Maybe it’s seasonal depression (maybe I should buy a full-spectrum light?). There’s probably some truth to that.
But also, I’m in a strange place right now. I don’t really know who I am anymore.
This is the odd aspect of recovering that I have rarely found anyone talking about. You have to recalibrate your entire life, when you take significant steps toward functioning as a whole person. And by whole, I don’t even mean non-multiple. I just mean more unity than ever before in the parts of me that participate in life. I will probably always be a multiple. But I am no longer functioning like one. And that means a HUGE adjustment. It’s not always pleasant. At times it’s scary, disorienting, emotional, and confusing.
There are very pleasant aspects to it as well, but my experiences shift back and forth rapidly between “this is really cool I love this new way of being” to “holy shit I don’t even know who I am anymore and there’s too much of me and not enough of me at the same time how did I end up on the wrong end of both of those things.”
So for these reasons, and others that aren’t hugely important, I just don’t know what to write lately. And if I did, my life is ironically busier now than it has ever been. One of the damn things about recovering from shit is that then you have to fully participate in life again, like a normal person. 😉 And right now for me that leaves very little down time for writing, or anything else. I have spent the last couple months wondering if I even want to write anymore. Strictly for the purposes of this blog, am I even interesting to the readers anymore if I’m significantly recovered from my childhood traumas?
Every time I start to have a faint worry about whether my blog or FB page is still getting views and likes, I remember that I did not start this thing to gain fame and fortune (ha! at that last one), and I certainly will not continue it for that reason either. As far as I’m concerned, we could burn it all down to the ground and I would be okay. I am still here by email, for people to contact if they want to. I am just at a point where I no longer know what to say.
I will leave you with this snippet from my journal. I wrote it about 14 months ago. I still go back to it and re-read it sometimes, because it helps me.
Every bad thing feels permanent.
It is not.
Every good thing feels temporary.
It is not.
My job is not to be small. And quiet. And diminished. My job is not to make things easier. For anyone. My job is to make the truth known. Others can decide, in how they respond, if it makes things easier or not.
We are made of stars.
One day TODAY you will find yourself again.