See, writing every day totally hasn’t happened.  But I have to learn to be okay with that.  I have to learn to be okay with a lot of things, it’s the only way to get better.  I feel like this writing is supposed to be more.  More what?  Just, well, more.

 I forget that it is often the small things that have the biggest impact.  Water gently flowing down a mountain side after a thousand years will have made a canyon.  Not a grand canyon of course, but still, a canyon will exist where there once wasn’t.  Can I learn to be that gentle flow of water?  Alright, that’s enough, stop laughing.  I know gentle is absolutely not a word to use to describe any part of me, but I’d like to think I can learn that too.  My mom, now she was gentle and persistent; she was flowing water.  She was a constant, cool, refreshing, ever gentle flow of goodness, peace, and love.  She made a grand canyon in my heart, majestic and wondrous.  She left behind such a mark that when she died, it remained.  I have always wanted to be even half the woman that she was.

                                                                                                   *              *              *              *              *

The dr. agreed that the meds were helping, and also agreed that I needed a little more.  The extra was definitely the right call.  I already feel more at peace than I have in a very long time.  My th0ughts have slowed and quieted significantly.  I feel in control, subdued even.  It’s sometimes unnerving to have quietness in my skull.  I feel out of place on occasion, like I am watching myself from under the surface of a deep lake.  I don’t mind it so much, but I know it will get tiring eventually, and I do not want to get stuck there.  But for now, I will enjoy it and use it to my advantage.


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