It’s been a rough couple of months here at the Purple Ink Ranch.
It’s been dark and hard and lonely and painful, for me at least. It goes without saying I have been putting my other two partners through it also. But they have dug their heels in and continue to remain at the entrance of the cave, just in case I need them. However, going into the cave….well, I guess it’s my turn to go it alone.
If you ask me what has happened, I will give you the best answer I can; I really don’t know. Roughly the first week of January– I broke. My server crashed, my ship took on water, my compass stopped working, use whatever metaphor you please, but the long and the short of it is–I broke.
Sleeping became a thing of the past as my nights, when they weren’t filled with really horrible nightmares, they became a place of agitation, where no rest could be found. Eating became almost impossible. Rationally, I knew I was hungry, but when the food entered my mouth, it just wouldn’t go down. My temper exploded on the smallest of things and crying jags happened often for no reason, at least no reason I knew of. My body hurt as if I had been in a car accident.
So, the first place I go is the doctor’s office. They said, “Let’s run tests. You’re getting older. Could be hormones, thyroid, lacking Vitamin…blah, blah, blah.” The tests were run, nothing was found, I paid them sixty bucks, they shrugged their shoulders and said go see a counselor.
So, I go see a counselor. He’s a nice guy. An older man who listens and asks me questions which catch me off guard. “What’s wrong with me?” I ask. He runs his hand over his gray head, looks out the window and says, “I’m not sure I know. Some things aren’t falling into place for me when looking at your situation. Let’s keep talking.”
I see a priest. I confess sins or what I perceive as sins. He says, “Keep praying. I’ll pray for you and you pray for you and you will see this through.” I tell him I can’t pray anymore, the words, thoughts, feelings are just gone. He says, “Try.”
My husband tells me to get out and take a walk, my friends tell me to get out more,do less around the house, relax. My children tell me to take meds(an interesting insight into their generation!) and my Mother just tells me to snap out of it.
If I knew what “it” was – I’d snap right away!
There are a few things I know for certain. This is not clinical depression, even the experts agree on that. It’s not menopause or problems with my thyroid, the sixty bucks told me that. The best way I can explain it is…I feel like I’m molting.
Somehow, for some reason, I am changing. I can feel it. There is a reforming sensation, a painful birthing process which I feel happening. Am I being too metaphysical-maybe? But along with all the painful physical sensations there is a sensation of expectation…but of what I can’t even begin to imagine.
I do feel better. It’s as if I have somehow gone through the first part, of course, I don’t know how many parts there are, but it doesn’t feel over.
So I’m calling out now. “Hello, out there! What’s happening to me? Does anyone know?”