Learning to Live Again
I have been staring at these blank pages for a very long time now trying to find the courage to type the words that are pent up in my heart. Fear is a weird feeling for me. As a rule, I am not a fearful person. It's conditioning. Once upon a time, I used to be a vibrant, albeit geeky kind of person. Alive. In love with life. Not afraid to try new things, or meet new people. Now, I rarely leave my house and a lot of days I can barely muster up the courage to get out of bed. I thank the makers of the universe daily for the love of my animals. You can only live in a state of fight or flight for so long before it takes its toll. I am a fighter, though, and while this seems interminable, there will come a day where I am happy to get out of bed again. I am seeing flashes of my old self occasionally, and that gives me hope. I am cracked, people. Cracked in a way I would never wish upon a soul. I would say broken, but I'm not broken. I will mend my cracks with gold,