I've been laying low the past several days having had the wind knocked out of me. Sometimes the depression and anxiety, completely sideswipes me like it did this week, and all I can do is hibernate and learn to breathe again. Mostly I'm pretty even and functional for good swaths of time. (I think perimenopause has a lot to do with my lows of late, but we'll see--it's time for a check-up.)
I was so hesitant to talk about my struggles again, to talk about the hard parts--but that didn't sit right. I come here to talk about the ups and the downs and to be, if nothing else, real and transparent. Because I believe in joy. Even in midst of struggles and suffering there is a part of me that burns bright that holds out for joy. I'm not into the happy-happy-sunshiney 'everything is fine' when it's not--that's not me at all. But as Albert Camus says:
“In the midst of winter, I found there was, within me, an invincible summer. And that makes me happy. For it says that no matter how hard the world pushes against me, within me, there’s something stronger – something better, pushing right back.”― Albert Camus