Exposed

 

I cannot walk in the open street today

with the sun glinting off the pavement

like so many eyes looking through me.

Today I can only manage the alleyways,

my steps muffled in the weedy overgrowth,

soundless, unnoticed.

Trees bend over me

understanding my need for cover and shadows.

The wind stirs the leaves

and lightly rumples my hair,

a soft caress to my cheek.

This hidden path serves my need for quiet, 

for solitude.

Tomorrow I'll walk in the sun.

I was going through some old files in my computer today and ran across the above poem I wrote in November 2015.  The picture is a selfie from 2011, which I thought perfectly reflected the mood of the poem.

I have dealt with depression and anxiety for as long as I can remember.  It kind of creeps up on me and, because of the tools I've acquired over the years, I can usually shake it off.  But there are times when it hits so hard that I feel I've been thrown down into the deepest black hole ever created and there's no way out.  When consort and I removed ourselves from "the real world" and began traveling about the country, the depression subsided.  It's been a full year since I was last overwhelmed by this darkness.

Anxiety, on the other hand, is a daily thing I work very hard to overcome.  It often inhibits me from doing things I enjoy, and it definitely keeps me from voluntarily joining large groups of people. 

But here I am today, a month after arriving in Brownsville, having fallen into the black hole and just beginning to claw my way out.  Maybe it's the pandemic exhaustion everyone talks about.  Maybe it's the disturbing state of our beautiful country.  Maybe it's that I'm 800 miles away from my grandsons who are truly the light of my life.  Maybe it's coming to an abrupt halt after a summer of traveling adventures.  I've never been able to figure out what it is that causes the depression; likewise, I can never pinpoint what it is that causes me to suddenly "wake up" to my old self.

I try to keep this blog lighthearted and have debated with myself for days as to whether I should publish my thoughts.  I finally came to the conclusion that until I honestly write about where I am right now and how I'm feeling, I have no voice.  If I can't be truthful about the bad stuff, why should you follow me through the good times?

Today is a new day and I'm finally waking up.  I've clawed my way to the top of the black hole and am peeking over the edge.  Maybe I'll even put on a mask and take the dogs, and their feline brother, outside for a walk.

Be well, dear reader, and stay safe.