Writing Again?

So I think this is a new start to my writing. I have felt the longing to put my thoughts to paper for several weeks. My well has felt dry for over a year (the last time I wrote was August 2022). Well, not just dry but non-existent. To be honest I felt the ‘me’ whom I had been until before the first months of retirement (September 2019) had faded to a pale hologram. I no longer knew the hopeful, joyous, interconnected ME. Where had she gone?

Lots happened in those 3 years and most of it probably has been experienced and written about by multitudes of others. The isolation of the pandemic (necessary to be safe — but brutal) shaved off all those connections that were so essential to our existence and flourishing. In my life, taking eucharist/holy communion had always been life-giving. However, a strange theological interpretation by the Presiding Bishop of the Episcopal Church kept eucharist on hold for the entire Pandemic experience. Shopping for groceries was by curbside ‘no contact’ (with humans) pickup. Amazon Prime delivered to our porch what we needed — except those things stymied by supply disruptions. Zoom kept me connected by voice and video feed — but I was starved for warm hugs and touch. Reflecting back, I was relatively safe from colds and flu and didn’t catch Covid 19 (thank goodness) but life seemed drained of color.

I slowly slipped into deep depression — something I had experienced before with the death of a sibling and the early deaths of two spouses. But this dark time came when my usually buoyant energy and physical disconnection from friendships and beloved siblings — resources that had fed my resilience in the past — were not available. Even the ability to go on retreat or go to the shore seemed impossible.

Miod-pandemic I found a gifted therapist. She was the image for me of hope. We worked together for almost 5 months until she suddenly became seriously ill and in 10 short days closed her practice. That was a year ago. Devastated by yet another unexpected loss, I was lost in grief until recently when hope seem for the future that I needed to look for and find a new beginning with another therapist. I am in the midst of acclimating to this new relationship and seeing a slight sliver of light to aim for.

Amazingly I have had several days over the past months I have felt touched by my “old self’. Mostly it has happened when I am with friends who continue to make dates with me and with whom I have been honest. I am so grateful to them and to those of you who read this who have not turned away. Life remains difficult and challenging with my Dad’s death and cognitive changes in my husband. But my life doesn’t seem impossible most days and I can tolerate not knowing what will come.

Quilting and my cat, Mr B, have been my thread of hope through all of this. I hope each of you can find some thread of hope, some small shaft of light, some voice of a friend or loved one that can pull you through any hard times you may be experiencing. And know that Love is still here.