There are a lot of things I want to write about. I'm not sure why I haven't... maybe because my life is busy and full of things I like doing. I was great at blogging and journaling when life sucked. It was my escape. It was the way I coped. One of the only ways I could deal. (I guess it also helped that I never slept...)
Its different now. I am still thinking and processing and working through things all the time, but I don't feel eager to sit down and write. I'd rather be living. Working with Sunny. Or just watching him, without the computer to distract me from the joy I feel when he runs. Playing the violin or the piano. Working. Talking with friends. Eating. Cooking. Watching TV. (I do that now. Dog Whisperer is my current favorite. I also like Phineas and Ferb as well as Mythbusters.) Reading (books and blogs). Sitting in the sun. Watching the snow fall.
At CFC, I was given the assignment to just relax. I wasn't allowed to do any assignments. No binder. Or notebook. Just sit and talk to people without anything in my hands. It was HARD for me. Partially because I felt anxious to get the work done. I wanted to heal, and if it took doing assignments 24/7, that's what I would do. And, the word "relax" was incredibly triggering, so how could I do it after someone told me to do it? I also felt so much anxiety if I wasn't DOING something productive.
Lately, I am very much alive, and have no need to be DOING something productive just so I can pretend to be alive. Its hard to describe. Now, most of my trials or struggles are like normal people trials. Like, car troubles. My car has issues. The engine is going out. That's a pain. The thing about my car is: it has had troubles for years. It is seventeen years old, and I haven't taken good care of it. Its just that... now, since that is the one of the only troubles I have in my life... I care about my car.
I don't know quite how to describe my life now... other than... normal.
Don't get me wrong. I still have nightmares occasionally. Flashbacks sometimes. Nasty emails from cowardly people. Doubts. Fears. Questions. Screwy thinking. But... it used to be that those things were the constant, and the moments of peace were the rarity.
As I was reading in a blog tonight, (I can't remember which one. I'm really sorry. I read and commented on a lot.) I read about how the author now fears death. She wants to believe in God, because she wants to believe that there is an afterlife.
I have never been afraid of death. I have hoped for it for most of my life. In the past six months, I have started to really enjoy living. It makes sense to me that as I start to love life, death would become the enemy. Its NOT the enemy yet, but I can see that happening... There is much to live for: horses to work with, rides to go on, mountains to climb, friends to talk to, goals to accomplish, places to see and explore, things to think about and wonder about, music to listen to, and write, and play.