Hmmm, maybe that should be "the light at the top of the hill" or some other analogy that implies continuation. The end of the tunnel sounds like ... it's all over, it's all better, we're out of the darkness now forever and ever amen. And I know that's not true. I will go into darkness again. Up and down and up and down, but hopefully each time becoming less and less dark as I cry and heal and bring light to my darkness.
Anyway, for the moment, I'm coming back up. I'm rising. I'm cresting the hill, I'm feeling the sun on my brittle bones, reviving me.
It's hard to see one's own up and down -- forest / trees, etc. The biggest sign to me that I'm UP again is that I feel like talking. I want to share my questionable wisdom, I want to blah blah blah, and I need a venue, many venues, ears to hear me, places to speak, share, write.
When I'm sunk in the pit, it's so hard to even find the energy to breathe, let alone speak.
I've basically LOST the last few months to darkness. My other blog has kept me going. I've had one pinky finger hanging on there, clinging to it like a tether to the light, something to keep my attention from going completely dark. The need to find something to post kept me occupied outside myself for at least a few minutes every day, and that was a very very good thing. And I realize it had to be something like coffee/tea, it couldn't be about myself because when I'm dark, feeling valueless makes it hard to talk about myself. Pretty hard to believe, I know, but that's why I haven't been posting here much. What could I possibly have to say that's of value? Well, and of course nothing was able to penetrate the darkness to feed my soul, so it seemed pointless to post here.
I'm coming up out of that now, for a time. October to March, is that 6 months? Have I really been dark for 6 months? Well, I guess it's better ... it's getting better. The year after mom died was truly a black hole. I lost that entire year.
When I say "lost", I don't mean I went to bed and never got up. Heh, well, some days were like that. But most days I had to get up. I had dogs to feed, and bills to pay. And as much as I wanted to just lie down and die, I couldn't. But I functioned on auto-pilot. I was a robot, with very little awareness of what was going on around me.
I feel pretty good this morning. And it looks like rain. That makes it a truly WONDERFUL morning. :)
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