It feels like years and years since I’ve posted here. Going through grueling physical recovery from two surgeries has changed me on a molecular level. It’s been a flurry of progressions with an equal amount of regressions. What I’ve learned is if I don’t take the time I need to fully heal, maybe this would have been all for nothing. My goal is to return to writing by the end of this year, or early next year. My brain is ready to go, yet my body still says no. I keep this photo handy every time I berate myself for not showing up. “They” say that time heals all wounds, but I’ve come to realize that it’s what you do with that time that evokes positive change and enlightenment – genuine growth.
I see the image of my brain imposed on the face of a big round clock with the hands moving at a snail’s pace. There’s many, many things to be anxious about, all of which are out of my control. I feel a mix of loss, sadness, anger and rancid shock. The angst is growing as time passes. I’m tired, yet I fear sleep. I dread what dreams may come. Many a night like this I have survived. This one is just so pronounced. Don’t speak. Please, don’t speak. Let the silence fix me. I know how to be sad. Let me rest my heavy head wherever it falls and may this time tomorrow be the birth of a new age.