Today dawned much like the ones that preceded it. I’m disconnected in a desperate attempt not to feel anything. But Beatrice is right, I’m not like I once was. I’m in touch with myself and my world. I see it and feel it. I appreciate it for all it is and isn’t right now. There was once a time when I could just shut down and disappear. That doesn’t seem to be the case anymore. If anything I am far too aware for my liking. There is no going back. I’ve grown into a different more complete person. I am viewing my existence so differently than I once did. I can not disentangle myself from that which I love and those that love me. It is staggeringly hard to create space now. I feel my partner’s fear. It is palpable here in the house. I don’t know what to say. I retreat and all the words unspoken hang listlessly around me. I see the sentences slouching in the corners of my vision. They taunt me, yet I still say nothing. What is there to say? Here I am again sliding. I couldn’t remain in a solid place. It has been a year. Just one year. How can we both live like this? She looks away rather than come closer. I do nothing to change that. I am irritable and sad in this silence. Beatrice is right, for someone as articulate and well spoken I can’t communicate with my partner for shit (my words, not hers). Would it even make a difference? Does talking change anything? I am not even sure. The words what live in my head are not anything anyone wants to hear.
Much of my day was spent alone in my studio. It was good to be lost in my work. I did not produce anything I liked, but at least I was not sitting and worrying. Instead I surrendered to my art. My hands spoke for me as I listened to music. It is a light airy space. It is so conducive to working. I don’t know why my work returned to me now. I can only say I am thankful for the refuge. Yet I still left the studio lost and hopeless. I forced myself out into the frigid air for a run. I did not want to go, I’d have far rather curled up on the couch lost in my thoughts. I knew I had to go. In the brisk air and the bright sunlight I found my stride and breath. I watched thoughts flip by in a never-ending news reel. I saw them and let them go. And so it went. I pushed myself hard enough to make it hurt. In that moment I found myself much more centered and less “watching” my thoughts. I was more connected, but feeling less pain. In some strange way the physical pain of running hard replaced the pain in my head. It was as if I swapped them in the course of my run. I returned home in a different place. Less hopeless and lost. As if the strength in my running stride brushed off and influenced my thoughts. I felt stronger. It has been a few hours now and I am still less hopeless than this morning. I will need to force myself to run again tomorrow. I’m willing to do anything not to get lost in that dark awful place I call depression.