I'm awake, fully and completely awake. I know it to be true. And I know that I'm not going to slip back into that hole at any moment.
Freedom. Relaxation. Room to take a deep, deep breath. Smile unguarded. Laugh with complete ease.
Live. Just live.
I know that for over two years I was not present. I am aware, now, how checked out how I was. There was no happiness in my life, despite an incredible husband and three beautiful children. I couldn't find the joy there. I remember searching for it but even when I found something to spark my interest it couldn't hold my attention for very long. I remember just laying on the sofa as the kids played or watched television.When I did interact I yelled. John was barely two years old. Sarah barely three. That put Violet in the care taker role.
The guilt that comes with it sits on my chest and weighs it down so I cannot breathe at times. It is a heavy, wet, sucking weight.
But today I play with them. Television is practically banned in our home. Do I still yell? Yes, but mostly because I'm a loud (oh, so loud) person.
I know I have large chunks memory that are gone. Some are not going to return. I feel the truth in that deep inside me. But for the most part I've come to accept that, even if it still brings me to tears. I'm noticing more details that I've forgotten, but I'm more comfortable with it.
I'm also living in the moment. In this very moment. Right here. Right now. I'm not worried. I'm not self checking, looking for signs of me checking out. I do this, yes. But not every single hour of every single day. Or even every day. I know that I'll have to be vigilant and fight this enemy, depression, forever. But while I fight it, I'm fighting it totally and completley awake. I'm aware of everything. This weekend I was present for every moment. And during our drive to Michigan yesterday I realized that I've been present, completely awake and alive, for months now. All June and July we ran around like crazy. And I enjoyed every moment of it. I remember all the swim meets. I remember the names of the women I met -- and how I met them. I'm still over emotional but I'm beginning to think that's just me. I always was way too empathetic. I just forgot how to be that way when I was busy concentrating on breathing. And medicating the world away.
Today I just have good days. There aren't bad days looming on my horizon. I have bad moods. The kids drive me crazy. But I'm not crazy. I'm not sad. I'm not waiting for a good day to get something done.
I'm just . . . awake. Alive.
And with that's how it's going to stay.
*I'm on my laptop, which is overly sensitive (as well) and jumpy. The spell check won't work, so please forgive any mistakes. Thanks!*