I’ve lost my voice again, the blog goes quiet. Funny how that happens sometimes. I’m grieving. I struggled awake this morning from a terrible dream about someone close to me dying. At the end, even as I started to realise it was a dream, I couldn’t help myself from reaching out, trying to hold on as it faded.
Depression comes and goes, a joyless, lethal lethargy with a bitter self hate.
There’s a pervasive sense of something being terribly wrong that’s hard to live with. I can’t tell if it’s the grief and sense of loss, or some other choice I’m making. I woke with it this morning as I wept into the sheets. Life is so fragile, what am I doing with it? What am I making of it? Suddenly I miss everyone, want to phone everyone, hold them all, tell them I love them. I restrain myself, I make tea and come back to bed. I let the animals touch me, I’ve disturbed them with the sobbing and they need to come near. It’s a beautiful impulse, the simplicity of the need for touch when someone cries out in pain.
I’m curled in bed, looking out at a white sky through the branches of my tree. This beautiful house. I won’t live here forever. There’s a sense of everything slipping away, of time stealing all. I try not to re evaluate my life, there’s been so much of that lately. I pat Tonks and think about a conversation with Rose last night, talking about how sick my dog Charli was, how I nursed him to the end but struggled to connect, how I bonded to the foster cat Abbie, but she died. Death and attachment. How strange it is that so much of what we want from life comes down to feelings. It’s not that we want success or career or to find love, it’s that we want to feel whole, content, connected, loved. I want those things. I think I’d how much work Rose and I have been doing lately and suddenly I want to run to her house, take her away, drive somewhere lost and lonely in the white sky, sit on the edge of an empty beach and fish. Sit by a fire and listen to the crackling, for hours and hours. Slow time down. More than anything I want to be able to feel the things around me, love and affection, grief, wonder. It’s the numbing detachment I fear. Living without being alive.
Rain glitters on the leaves of my tree. Rose is getting ready for work in her house down the road. Tonks is in the window, watching the birds flying black against the sky. There’s some kind of peace here. I still have a heart to break. I can still be moved by life, I know what I’m pursuing. Grief and terror rest alongside acceptance, a calm joy in the beauty of my world, my little home. The big searing questions of life and meaning and my life settle like tigers, resting behind me in the shadows, purposeful and waiting, but at rest. Rain falls silver. I lie by the window, between the dark and the light. My heart stops trembling and sleeps. Shadowed by pain and lit by joy. I’m still alive.