there has been a lack of writing lately. i find it a bit ironic that i've written so little over the two months, but received so many more comments than i'm used to receiving. there are so many of us out there in the world - all of us searching for answers, for others, for anyone on the other side of the world who understands what it's like to be the child of a mentally ill mother. i grieve for all of us. i mourn our childhoods. i celebrate our strength, and i hope for our healing.
in my life, there have been periods of time that can be clearly defined by emotions. rage. anger. depression. joy. the last few months belong to: calm. eery calm.
i'm not used to it. i don't even trust it. but the fact of the matter is that i have approached my daily life lately like someone... normal. i go to my job, and leave at the end of the day. i see my brother and his wife. i talk with friends and family on the phone. i spend days off running errands, going on hikes, getting my hair done...
it feels positively foreign.
am i finally living well? living a healthy life? is this what it feels like to not have the weight of the world on one's shoulders? is this what it feels like to go about my day, and not spend a moment of it feeling guilty about my mother, or worrying about what she's up to now?
it feels foreign. completely foreign.
i want to trust this. i want to trust that this calm will continue. but the story of my life has taught me that periods like this end, and usually abruptly. i guess i'll just continue to hope.
