I can hardly believe that it has been nearly a year since I last blogged. But alas, it has.
When I say
so much has happened and changed since that last blog, and yet nothing has, I could
not be any more earnest.
For a while
I struggled like never before in the financial realm and although that is not
100% rectified things are better than they were.
We are still having a hard time getting completely back on our feet, but slowly a shift is happening. Although food insecurity is definitely a struggle, we have been figuring things out by being creative in and particular in what we eat. I don’t want to go into too much detail about the money thing so I will just say this … Though we are not where we would like to be, we are better than where we were.
By “we” I
mean my family here at home (my son, soul-sister, and I).
We have lost
loved ones, I made a shift in employment, and the best thing that has happened
this year so far, by far, is spiritual growth.
Especially in
recent months and weeks.
Depression
had been at a fever pitch. Sort of to the point of me having entirely given up
on the world. Everything seemed like a fruitless venture.
I had lost
the desire and will to even try to be happy anymore. My conviction and passion
for life, altogether snuffed out.
I’d
convinced myself that in this life Nowhere was the somewhere
to which I’d be journeying to forevermore.
Thus, my
light had extinguished.
If life was
color, I’d become a morose grey. This was hard for me. Mostly because the
majority of my life I’d been the optimistic, bright person that always saw a silver
lining.
Life had
beaten me down so much that by this time last year, I was a feeble, sad wraith
of who I used to be—a meat and bones phantom of the me that once existed. I would
look in the mirror and not see myself. I tried. Lord knows I tried. Yet, I
could not reach the summit of my felicity. I could not find love internally or
externally. I could not find contentment in self or life. I could not find optimism
in existence or coexistence. There was just nothing.
All
there was, was
the get-up and go. And not the good kind.
I am sure
that by now everyone has heard of the concept of autopilot. This was my every
day. Get up, do my daily due diligence, go to bed, repeat. Emptiness,
withdrawal, and solitude was the new norm. This manifested itself in anger,
resentment, and silence.
Nevertheless, I tried. Hard. I did. I considered going away.
Disappearing. Because it felt
like the only thing I offered anyone I cared about was misery.
But a long
time ago, I learned the art of The Mask. So my mask-game was strong—it’s been
that way most of my life. Yet, in this past year, even though I felt hollow
inside the smile on my face told other people otherwise.
I’d lost my ability to write. I’d lost my musical inclination. I could no longer hear Spirit’s voice. I had lost my spiritual connection.
Basically, I lost everything. Everything
but my love for cooking. But this was a catch-22 because food is comforting.
And when you desperately need that comfort, you cook. You eat. Inevitably, you
get fat.
Here is the
even bigger kicker. We’d been severely struggling with food insecurity (still
do to some extent). Yet, when you need food not just to fuel
your body but to feel relief from depression, you become relentlessly creative in
how you get “you fix” if you will. So … I cooked, I baked, I did whatever I
could to eat. And of course, to feed my family.
But, my artistic
and spiritual inclinations and needs had dissipated. They were mist and smoke,
and intangible.
Yet, I
pressed forward with nowhere to go. If a meaningless life was the same as rock
bottom, then I had unequivocally hit it. But I said nothing. Kept it all to
myself. I pressed on.
I repeat the
word “press” because that is what it felt like.
It was like digging
your shoulder into a concrete building and pushing against it with all of your
might, trying to push it down.
Said structure
wouldn’t budge but your body and ego were burnt out, hurting, bruised, and
remorseful. Yet and still, you repeated this process day in and day out for so
long that you’d lost track of time, place, space and your sense of self.
Moreover, the reason why you’d started pushing against it in the first place.
I was,
indubitably, a shadow.
Depression
does this thing where you are relieved when you get to the end of the day. One
day at a time has a whole new meaning when all you see is darkness.
I yearned so
profoundly to find myself again and reconnect with the Universe/God/Spirit/Allah
(of whatever you call the Highest Power). I desperately needed to reconnect
with my gifts, my talents, and my meaning and purpose for existing. I needed
community, connection and interconnection. I needed what was equivalent
to my normal. If I could not find that, get there, then I felt like
I would be doomed for perpetuity.
Although, I
could not “pray” as such, my heart spoke … no … screamed for some level of
salvation. Some relief from the devastation and despondency. For alleviation
from a life not lived, and an existence without purpose.
Suddenly,
and fairly recently the answer to that prayer came. And in the most unexpected
way ever.
Circumstantially,
a full-time position became available to me at one of my places of employment.
This position was offered to me. I accepted. Little did I know that this shift
would also translate into the change I needed. The change I yearned for so desperately.
I feel
relieved. I am finding myself again. Things, as of right now, are better. Not
great. Not ideal. But absolutely better. I am grateful. One day I will share
some psychic-medium experiences that have happened in the last couple of weeks.
It is so beautiful to see, feel, hear those things again. To feel reconnected
to The Source. To know that I am not alone and have never been alone. Spiritually
speaking, that is.
Once again …
I AM GRATEFUL.
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