Here I am out of hundreds of times, not being able to write fluently. It seems to me that my most beloved breathing space is vanishing and closing away my last door of light.
I’ll tell myself it’s okay, eventhough it is really not. For the past 2 years now, writing has been the only connection I had to myself. No matter how many things I tried to practice , the only way I got back to my own brain has been by writing.
I’ve been in Lebanon for quiet some time, and with that yet another series of self reflections was triggered.
I thought I was aware of what is called home. I thought I knew what I needed, apparently that wasn’t the case.
Home is not the home I was craving for. It sure does look like it a lot, but feels nothing from it. After 5 years of homesickness, struggles, pain, emotional distress, loneliness and tiredness, this is not it. It’s a strange place to me and somehow I cant believe Im so enstranged by it. I was supposed to come back and pick up where I left, but Nothing stayed where I left it, and I myself, am not where I left me no more.
The life I had here disappeared. With nearly minimum traces to it. I dont live in the same house, I don’t have the same job, not the same friends or partner, and I dont have the same me I had 5 years ago here. She’s different now, she’s new, and Im still getting to know her.
I’ve been off the medication for 3 months now, and I have to admit it feels good and scary at the same time. I was afraid what would happen next, I was afraid of the physical energy that would clash, I was afraid, that those days of isolation would come back to lock me up inside my own prison.
I still fear what will come in a month or two. I fear the consequences of daily life pressures that are normal to others but tremendous to my eyes. What if I keep getting stressed and then find myself not being able to do my own laundry or even find enough motivation to exist one day. The fear of going back becomes bigger as you slowly start recovering from depression episodes, and the risk of reliving these scenarios, becomes harder to deal with. The more I heal, the more I fear going back to where I got stuck. It is a long tiresome journey indeed, a lot of weight, none of which is visible to the outside.
I find myself not being able to naturally smile like I used to , I find my facial expressions with much less energy. I find smiling for no reason takes as much effort from me, effort which I don’t still own.
It is not a short trip, few therapy sessions, some pills, and all is well. Even healing, costs a lot, the safer I find myself, the scarier it becomes, and the scarier it is, the bigger the need I feel to retrieve and keep myself locked up behind 4 walls. But it is worth this fear. The emotional return, the feeling of warmth, safety, trust, and clarity, is worth the fear and the fight of the fear.
2 years of constant work, and ongoing. It didnt start easy, isnt at the moment easy, and is not actually ending. But all I can say, is I am embracing all these fears, as part of the process, a phase that will also pass just like all other phases.
I’ll leave you with one note , its okay to be afraid from good things, the same way you are afraid from bad things, fear keeps us knowing what to care for, what to protect, and what to prioritize. In the meantime, Embrace the pains of healing, and let them sink in.
PS: the picture is completely irrelevant, yet somehow is.