The Fresh Path
Today the mist was relaxing. This morning, I sat journaling on the deck near the hot tub, writing in my journal and listening to the rumble of the water as I did the spa treatments, and the ominous cawing of ravens as they ventured around our valley. Life is so rich and busy for me as of late, and yet it feels strange. It feels strange to be living normally. I spent four to five months either in a state of manic psychosis, or the medicated stupor that followed. Now, having put that behind me, it is very much as if I am walking away from a cliff that I have fallen from. It is a bit hard to remember where I was at before I fell, the experience of the fall dominating my recent memory. And yet, I have built a full life. I feel better than I have for a couple of years, while dealing with a lot of side affects and symptoms such as fatigue, and adjustments. Perhaps it is my dedication to the gym, perhaps it is the new commitment to being sober, or the new church community and book group that I have nestled into. Perhaps it is the new combination of medications that I am on. I really cannot tell you. Why would I feel better after such an awful experience?
Perhaps it is all perspective. I am grateful for every moment that I feel okay. I am grateful for not suffering from insane depression, disjointed psychosis, or medicated agitation and volatility. Things are just different. I have survived. And in that survival, I have found myself. I have found a new strength. It is following me everywhere. Perhaps I got the sadness out of my system, perhaps I just prayed my way into contentment.
My cats, my dogs, my man, my niece, my family and friends, everyone feels easy. I am just so grateful that everything is okay, and that I am at peace. I still struggle with things. Some physical pain, and I get tired and I need to delicately balance my life every day. It was strange to realize that everything that I had been experiencing for months on end was not real, but there must have been purpose to the journey, no matter how scattered, chaotic and painful. Because as I walk on, and put distance between myself and the proverbial cliff that I fell from, it feels almost as if there was purpose to all of the struggle.
Once again, I learn from my illness. It shows me truths that I do not believe would be necessarily learnt had I not been diagnosed as schizoaffective. The appreciation I have for family, life, faith, and the general human experience, is tenfold having been blessed with the gifts of mental illness. I just hope that peace continues to penetrate the veil of my life and spread to others through me, as we all journey on our way toward the healing of our minds, bodies, and spirits.