Today I started writing in my diary again because I had been frustrated for too long over an inability to write—most of which having to so with writing for other people to read. So I wrote freely and raged with no mercy for punctuation.
And I revisited the last time I wrote in May of 2012 and I was shocked.
Shocked from remembering how completely erratic I was and how I very nearly became a Christian. A whole hearted and tragically desperate Christian. For all the wrong reasons.
Shocked over how I didn’t think I would have a future. I was sure I wasn’t going to make it. Shocked over how little even I knew what I was doing on a daily basis.
Shocked by how frightened I was. And alone, of my own doing.
"Day one of taking care of self. Debra called me and overwhelmed me. Walked to the rose garden and the dog descended. Slashes at myself to feel sharper as a person. What was going on?
I almost lost my umbrella; thank god it wasn’t taken.” —April 11, 2012
When I think back to who I was I inevitably connect it to who I am in the present. I was shocked that these words suddenly made me love who I am now even more. As though I could not trade in those days of fear if it meant losing this person I have now. And that makes me feel like the terror was conquered.
Reading also reminds me of the moments inexperience even now. Quite frequently, moments when I feel the fog nipping at my mind reminding me what it feels like to relinquish yourself to death. The draw of it. But also of how it does leave. It rescinds and the future moves on.
As I fret over what to do with my career and future and life I am stunned by my own past belief that the future would never come. And I feel an indescribably gratitude that I was wrong.
From my phone so please excuse the brevity and other potential errors.