Reemerging

I have been visibly absent in blog land. It started with longer stretches in between posts. Then longer. And longer.

And then.

Nothing.

I seem to have lost my focus along the way.

I forgot why I started doing this in the first place.

It all began with a significant anniversary and a guest post at the lovely and talented Jessica's at Oh, The Joys. And the responses filled me up.

I started blogging to let out the pent up emotions of the past and to try my hand at writing. And I found empathy and friendship and even bloggy hook-ups.

And it felt terrific.

And then the pack came back and I stopped. I did all of the things that just plunge me deeper into the abyss. 

Isolating, no exercising, not writing.

The recipe for depression for me.

Because I was doing nothing I felt that I had nothing to write about.

So today I start again.

I am going to yoga, walking and running. I am going in to my studio again.

And I am here. 

It may start slowly but start I must.

The Pack

They are out there again.

Their howls were faint at first but every few days that familiar

eerie chorus seems a little closer as they circle.

Watching.

Waiting.

Sometimes they are silent. Sometimes they retreat a bit.

They are tentative. Not sure the time is right. Not quite sure

if they have been summoned.

I know this pack. They made their first appearance when

I was thirteen.They came very quickly and stayed for nearly

a year.

My mother and her friend Betty talked several times.

'I thought it would be okay - they are both so young.'

'It was so innocent - the most they did was hold hands.'

And yet I felt broken.

They came again when I became pregnant at eighteen.

Then I gave him up for adoption.

Their ranks grew. They must have called for reinforcements.

The rank and file was tired. This turned out to be a very along stay.

A very long stay indeed.

They have come for shorter visits. When they leave and the hazy veil

of despair is lifted I hope it is the last I will see of them.

But their path is well traveled. They know the way in their bones.

They have been visiting my ancestors for centuries.

I was not to be spared.

The very darkest, most debilitating visit occurred when my beautiful

twins arrived. I could not sleep for the incessant howling of the

pack. The noise was deafening when I nursed my babies.

I was a prisoner, a slave to them again. They fed on my panic,

on my feelings of being trapped - a prisoner in my own home.

They finally left after six months. Now and again I would find the

tufts of their undercoats under a high chair, behind a crib.

Little testaments to their visit.

They call to me every few years or so.

This time I heard them early - I went for help sooner.

And I am taking care of myself better.

And yet they wait.

I visualize running them off. A screaming banshee with a big stick.

I visualize them losing interest and wandering off.

I visualize a peace of mind descending and a serenity that stays.

And the seeds of hope fall out of my clenched fists as they

slowly relax and open.

And I pray for rain.