blank pages.

my journal has sat blank for about a month

this space has been quiet for most of this week and last.

my art supplies are still neatly tucked into the cupboard where April lovingly arranged them when my house was love bombed.

my emotional walls have been being reinforced with the morter of pain and confusion and despair.

and yet

 the sun has been shining

  our family is tightly knit these days

 and up until a few days ago i even had kept up with the house.

the garden at the farm continues to blossom

  there have been times of sharing and laughter

  bumpy truck rides to the estuary

  late night fires and just the right amount of mojitoes to share.

but in my heart and my body and my mind and my soul

there was only pain.

and i couldn't talk about it or write about it or create about it.

i temporarily lost my voice and my hope.

oh how quickly we slide when we let go and allow the physical pain to win.

when we let go of what we need to do to keep on going.

for me,

i'm still figuring out what i need but i know that at the very least

i need to be in nature and i need to write and i need to speak through my journal and art because speaking with my voice is tricky still for me.

 my voice gives away the inner pain and anger and sickness so i prefer to keep silent when possible.

(yes i know...working on that one)

it was gradual i think.

 the sliding. 

but i've felt it these past few months.

the new depression, the increase in symptoms, the fatigue

  i didn't do anything to reverse or halt it.

not sure that i could have so

i've allowed myself to keep falling

 

until tuesday night in the backyard surrounded by weeds as high as my knees

 i listened to the one who knows my heart

and who loves me enough to risk my hot tears and angry initial reactions to words that while spoken in love,

 still sounded harsh and judgemental and made me want to scream

"you don't really get it do you?!"

but of course, i don't scream because, well that's just not how i communicate when hurt.

 i whisper.

and he of course, agrees. he doesn't get "it"

and

suddenly,

there is a

messy, ugly,vulnerable and oh so risky

conversation hanging in the air.

his intent is all love.

 i am choosing how i hear his words.

 i need to choose wisely.

repeat that.

i need to choose wisely.

he  also feels the deep emotional pain of our journey these past three years.

he is not a passive bystander offering unsolicited advice.

 he is fully commited.

 self pity, the pain, the lack of control and failed progress all come crashing down all around our feet.

so many setbacks. so much disapointment. it would be understandable and easy to focus on those.

i staggered for two days under the weight of his words.

words that spoke of giving up on hope, of needing to remember that i will be well again, that i do need to take care of myself, that he misses me, that my to do lists never mention me- it only mention others and that maybe, just maybe i need to consider why i won't take care of myself. why i won't make myself a priority.

why i don't believe i will get well anymore when just a few months ago i still beieved i wasn't really all that sick despite the symptoms. my heart and head were still proclaiming "i am well..don't let my physical limitations bother anyone..."

how did it change so fast?

i reminded him that in my world, in my mind, in my heart

i have been working so hard.

so hard.

but not hard enough he reminds me again.

gently.

hot tears sit on the surface of my eyelids and i am angry.

and again feel the rush of emotion.

i need to choose how i hear his words.

and i need to let down some walls

if we are going to survive.

 after a few silent, agonizing moments

 he does allow me the healing balm of recogizing and affirming

which i so desperatly needed at that moment.

(please see what i have been trying to do, i beg in my heart, please)

  that from who i was, to who i am becoming i have indeed been working very hard.

and he showers love upon me and reminds me that this conversation is not about the past but about our future.

and that who i was, was enough. was lovely. was remarkable. was a gift to others. that who i was isn't a person to criticize and abandon.

 but i'm being made into someone new

unless i stop the progress and continue to slide.

 i need to look forward. not back.

i know this stuff. and it drives me crazy that what i know so well, and what i have always tried to share and role model to others feels so impossible in this moment.

  

he believes in working harder than we think we can, pushing ourselves to that next place.

(this is one of the reasons i love him so-

he has gone far,

quickly because of the standards he holds for himself)

right now, in this season of my life, i just believe in getting through the day. the moment.

and this is enough.

 as long as there is a plan he reminds me.

"you are the queen of plans!" 

 he says with slight exasperation in his voice.

at least i think it's exasperation but actually it is more a relief.

he is speaking my language now.

the langauge of research, how to books, lists and learning plans and sparkly stickers.

perhaps i can use that in my favour.

the stagger began to feel like a solid walk yesterday.

 i felt a shift.

a tiny shift.

and it has freed up some room

and my hope seed soaked up the nourishment.

(i will be back to this space again, daily, faithfully and it might get messy and self serving for a while as i process what the future looks like for me.

talking away about myself. my issues. my health. maybe even details. all about me it might seem.

but hey, it is my space so i guess that's okay.

thanks for journeying with me here.

 and as always, comment away if you feel led..i love to know who's sharing my heart)