Happy 2014

I think there is a tiny, small, minuscule (please read, LARGE) part of me that doesn't consistently blog because I don't like being tied to one vein of writing. My thoughts are all over the board most of the time and I desire freedom in sharing whatever.
I also dislike it because I like fresh starts. And writing the same blog means a continuation.

I think I often desire I could erase the past.

2013 was one hell of a year, wasn't it folks? I'm pretty sure I met Jacob when I did so that I wouldn't hit the erase button on the last year of life if I could. For while the worst was happening, the best was also unfolding. Griefs and joys in the greatest abundance.

There is deep grief inside me, clawing its way out. The sharp nails hit different part of my being and leave behind shreds which I am knitting back together, often with new yarn. I'm not the same. I'm patches. But patches are beautiful.

There is deep joy inside me, bursting forth. Dormant for so long, it's ready to spring forth and enter the world around me. I think that joy has become one of the most precious things to me. Being a survivor/sufferer of anxiety and depression has made joy a thing of wonderment. When I catch myself in a joyful moment it almost shocks me, it's so foreign.

I close my eyes and it runs it's warmth across my being making small goosebumps appear. Little goosebumps of joy. Little goosebumps of hope. Laughter tickles the corners of my mouth, daring me to hold it back. I sit with Lia in my lap and marvel at the little person she is becoming. I marvel at the love I was able to give her even though I felt so inadequate and desperate this last year. I marvel at the sweet, gentle, lovely, loving little person that I've been blessed to nanny. I hold the hand of a man so strong and soak in the perfection of a moment. I steal myself, sad that the moment ever has to end. As I look into his eyes I receive love and the safety of being deeply known and seen... seen at my very saddest, most afraid, extremely desperate, frighteningly panicked. I soak in the love of the only man I want to spend my panicked days and my joyful days with, the only many with whom I want to share all the minutes, important and mundane.

My life is rich and blessed and good. I could not even glimpse this two months ago. Weighed down by anxiety and fear and strife, I had no hope. Today is a new day and it's good to be here. Slowly healing, slowing getting there.