So tonight for the first time in days I open up the Word document that collects all this nothing and all this everything together. And what I write is that for a long time I’ve been afraid. I feel weak and am full of fear. In a steady flow of words I explain that yet again I can feel the depression and loneliness that blurred everything last year, and I’m frightened that these feelings will never go away. I find myself telling someone, anyone, that I don’t want to be offered drugs to fix this again, but I can feel them being pushed onto me. I’m frightened I never pulled my life back together, and I’m frightened I never will. I find myself asking for an answer.
And it's just as I’m about to erase the eight hundred or so words of worry and I find myself responding, offering up a comfort I haven’t felt in a long time. Words I’d want to hear from someone else, words to sooth and cajole me into a temporary calmness.
I fall asleep with only a minor feeling of dread.


Ben said...

It's good that you responded, because the answer has to come from within.