I used to be a dreamer. I used to create beautiful things.
But then there was a storm.
Sometimes we need a quiet reprieve. We need to retreat and recollect ourselves after the rain.
But then there was a storm.
Sometimes we need a quiet reprieve. We need to retreat and recollect ourselves after the rain.
When a storm not only blindsides you, but hovers like a monsoon of biblical proportions, it can wreak havoc on your soul. Now, there are those of us that put on a smile and weather the storm with a strength and grace that inspires those around us, and there are those of us that crumble to a pile of broken dreams, succumb to darkened thoughts, and give way to faded hope and a shattered spirit; those whose souls writhe in pain, and for which there seems to be no light beyond the darkness.
I am of the latter.
And I fell apart.
I became scarred beyond recognition.
My spirit died.
But I am not done yet.
I will become something more than before, not in spite of my scars, but because of my scars. I will pull myself out of bed each day and put myself first again, because if I don't, I will be useless to anyone else. I will pray, I will meditate, I will breathe fresh air, I will turn up the music and dance, and most of all, I will create.
Not too long ago, I heard on the news of a medical procedure- an implant that goes into the brain, being used to treat depression in people who weren't responding to medication. Out of marvel and curiosity I decided to google it, and I discovered research on the specific area of the brain in which this pace-maker-like device is planted, known as Area 25.
Area 25 is the portion of the brain believed to control emotions. As I read this, something stirred within me. I wondered what I could do to stimulate my area 25 (since brain surgery was obviously out of the question). At that point in my darkness, music was the only thing that helped me to escape. Anxiety had become crippling to me, and I had isolated myself beyond belief. The only relief I had found, was to put in my earbuds and listen to my favorite music. I hadn't played piano or picked up my camera in almost a year, and my soul was aching to create again. I knew that creativity was "that thing" for me- the way to speak both from and to my Area 25. It's my portal of sorts- a way to vent my sadness, turn it into something tangible, something that can be seen or heard. It's a way to validate my emotions, to let them go out into the world and to free them from my body. I didn't know if what I was capable of creating in that state would be something dark, or beautiful, or both, and it didn't matter to me.
I just knew that the only way I would ever pull myself out of the abyss was to create again.
I pulled my keyboards out of the attic and began playing while the kids were at school. I began taking long rides on roads unexplored. I began doing yoga outdoors, where I could feel the breeze and hear the birds. I started listening to guided meditations. I learned to practice Reiki. I began to feel myself, still somewhere deep inside, wanting to emerge.
I had believed that girl was gone.
I had all but buried her.
But I was wrong.
She still exists.
Eventually, my hands found themselves holding a camera again. I began taking my camera on long walks through the woods, driving back roads, taking photographs of things that made me feel something, anything.
And there it was.
My passion had found me in that darkness. It warmed me like the light of the sun.
And it was different than before.
I am different than before.
I am the dreamer who died, and was brought back to life.
Love,
Me
My favorite photographer!!! Beautifully written.
ReplyDeleteAmber, thank you so much for taking the time to read my musings and for your love and support. Much love ♥
ReplyDeleteI've walked a similar road - thank you for sharing this! I am so glad you are finding joy again. Carry on, warrior! - Amaris
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