I am shriveling.
Drip, drip, drip.
There used to be a river of water coursing through my veins.
Where did it go?
I am not even thirsty.
I walk on and on and on into a land of shifting sand.
Where is the Beauty, the color, the aliveness?
It evaporated into the heat of uncertainty.
Will this end?
Step, step, step.
Will I find the streams once again and soak my tired feet,
rooted and growing into a tree of life?
Will the birds sing and the wind blow?
Oh wind, stir in me.
Drive me towards the water.
Quench my parched lips
or else I will die.
I wrote this to communicate the intense dryness and weariness I have felt since the beginning of the year. All the passion, drive, and joy I had lived with for the past two years or so evaporated. It was like I’d been running along freely, and then I hit a brick wall and crumpled to the ground in exhaustion and surprise and pain.
I haven’t wanted to write. It’s been hard to want to blog. I’ve written 3 pages in my fantasy novel since the beginning of the year. I have no joy in existence. I’ve been struggling with depression. And I’ve wondered again and again, why is this happening to me? Me, who has encouraged others to live life to the fullest and embrace their callings and do the things they love. I myself couldn’t even find the joy or passion this winter/spring.
Some of this is grief related. Some of it is related to things that happened in my life over the last few months. It’s been discouraging on many levels. I’m just starting to come out of this season. I hope.
Summer is coming, and the warmth is filling up my heart. I am stirring once again.
Photo by Adobe Stock/Bluesky60