My voice has been lost.
For the last few weeks it's felt like I can't come up for air. Like the world is swirling around me and I'm stuck in the middle, slowly moving through my day, going through the motions.
This week it's like I turned a corner and the fords are spilling out.
Finally. The number of times I'm opened my laptop, trying to write, trying to share something ... I can't remember. I sit there and watch as the screen fades to black, the words failing to come again.
With so much going on inside my head, inside my heart, I couldn't find the words. For years, I've been journaling every night. Writing down a few words, sentences, pages of feelings, thoughts, emotions. It keeps me grounded, helps me stay above the fray, the chaos that seems to incircle my days. Keeps the anxiety and depression at bay.
But these last few weeks haven't been that dark cloud of depression again. It's been something different. Something good, freeing, new. But still, difficult to navigate and put in to words.
The rest of the story is coming, words that have been stuffed inside me these last few weeks. But for now I'm content with the slow movement of these days. The rhythm of our daily life that never ceases to amaze me.