Getting back my sense of self


For the first time in a long time I walked through my house tonight and found I was smiling.  I wasn’t reliving a memory or anticipating an upcoming event, I was just….happy.

I hadn’t realized how much of my happiness had been consumed by reality until the corners of my lips were turned upright for no particular reason.  After all the tension I have experienced over the last couple of months, I was sure those muscles had atrophied and would require intense physiotherapy to get the full range of motion to return.  The degeneration of joy was paralyzing.

But I am once again finding beauty in my surroundings because stress no longer abrades my senses.  The scent of lilacs permeates my nose as soon as I step outside and the sounds of the creatures of the night soothe me with their harmonic tones.  And after many nights of being unaware of the true depth of my melancholy, I am now able to appreciate their symphony and realize that my true bliss has returned.

My words flow more freely now because they are no longer trapped in a smoldering vat of fermenting unrest.  My brain is at ease and my creativity flows in small streams until it culminates at the mouth of the river.  Those ideas trickle along the banks of my mind.  Each drop of inspiration is collected, it pools and eddies at the precipice until the words spill uncontrollably over the crest of rock and create a waterfall of language and expression.  That waterfall is my release.  That rapid flow of ideas is my heaven.


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I have slowly re-acquainted myself with the things that I hold dear.  I have learned to let go of the stress and spend time each day making new memories and not just relying on recollections of my past to satiate my need for happy thoughts.  I have regained my inner compass.  I have reclaimed my sense of self.