Welcome Back, Me

I cannot put my finger on it, cannot pinpoint the moment the veil began to lift.  Was it this morning while I sipped coffee in the fresh spring air?  Did it  happen when I was shining my sink?  How can I know whether it was while I cleaned my bathroom or when I took Honey for a walk?  Was it when I woke yesterday from my dream of Clint?  I just know that, at some moment in time, my vision began to clear, I began to have thoughts of nesting and cooking and nurturing myself.  I feel light but not soaring.  This is not mania.  This is me.  I have once more found the road to myself, and though I know there are many miles to travel on this path, I have begun to move.  I will surely stumble as I move forward, but move forward I will.

I am guarded but no longer terrified, no longer in fear of paralysis or wordlessness or alienation - both from myself and others.  I step gently, carefully toward tomorrow and what it brings.  The wall is coming down, but I know that as well as it can set me free, it can roll over me like an avalanche, bury me in the detritus
of my own poisons and demons as I shed them one by one.

Now, to set about the task of writing it all down, telling my truths, shedding my fears, inviting warmth and comfort and a sense of self that is sure and grounded and good. 

I welcome myself home from a dark journey, scarred and  questioning and cautious, ever cautious.  It is not strength that brings me back.  My strength never left me, only buried itself under the wall, hid itself in the dark hole.  It was always here.  I was always here.

Four weeks ago, I could not walk.

How I Landed in Hospital

This new post is the beginning of a series that will take us back several months.  

I arrived home from the hospital on Thursday afternoon.  The story of the six nights I spent there is long and and complicated, but I’ll try to write it down in a manner that makes some sense.

If you are a regular follower, you know that I have been struggling with short term memory loss and ataxia. (Picture a slightly drunk person walking across he room).  On the evening of February 24, I stood up from the side of my bed and tried to take a step.  My feet felt as though they were stuck in cement, and I could not lift either one.  I fell forward and landed on the floor in a crumpled puddle.

I tried to stand up, but my legs would not move.  It was then, while lying on the floor, that I burst into terrified tears.  Fortunately, my cell phone was on the end of my bed, and I dragged myself across the floor and was able to brush it onto the floor.

I called my friend Nancy, only to discover that she was out of town.  She advised me to stay where I was and that she would call a private ambulance.  The EMTs were incredible and picked me up onto the stretcher, started my IV, and drove me to hospital.

When my fine motor skills return and my memory is better and my keyboard is once again my friend, I’ll be back. I want tp  stzfghis with youso you will know. 

These lasy 2  is what m ty[ posta eoulfloom ,ife unediyir.

I’m rxhaustes ad want to est for  WHILE

Hopr to be bac don.

The last two paragraphs show what my typing looks like if unedited. It has taken me the better part of an hour to get these words written down.

I want to tell the whole story and will begin at the beginning--as I am able.

Namaste..........cj