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.