It may seem that I am starting my story somewhat in the middle, or potentially somewhere near the end. However, writing has always been my way to process, it gives me clarity and strength and allows me to ground myself – which is worth more to me than diamonds when depression has caused me to feel so disconnected from myself and the world around me. This is why I have chosen to start my story here, with the first time that I felt again, after months of being so painfully absent from my own life.
I was walking through the woods. Alongside me, my dog was running through the bushes, chasing scents, acting from pure visceral instinct. Even during my lowest moments, watching him being so free, so careless, brought a smile to my face. But for what felt like so long, I hadn’t felt a smile. A smile would dance around my face at work, it would appear whenever it was expected, and it could fool everyone except me. But that day, in that moment, with the sun on my skin – I felt again. I felt peace. It was a sad sort of peace, an acceptance filled, foggy, heavy sense of peace. But it was real. I stood there in that moment for what felt like a hundred beautiful years.
That evening when my boyfriend came home from work, I hugged him. I pulled him so close and realised how long it had been since I felt how much I loved him. That man had been my rock. He had stood by me through the confusion, the tantrums, the tears. He watched the person he loved fall out of love with themself, and he never gave up on love, he never gave up on hope. In that moment he felt how much I loved him, and I felt how much he loved me. I may not have been cured, but for the first time in months I was grounded. That evening when we fell into bed, we knew we had connected. We still do, every beautiful day since.
That was the day that changed my life. I could see the beauty in the world, I could see the love in my boyfriends eyes. It felt real. It felt true. It felt wonderful. It still does.
Journal to Wellness 