I take my pills without thinking much about it. How they are classified sounds alarming – antipsychotic, anticonvulsant, antidepressant. I do not question that they help me, they are a cornerstone of my sanity. I often forget that they have a blunting effect on my emotions. It’s only when I need to cry that it is evident to me, when I have those rare moments like today, that tears fall down my cheeks, something begins to stir inside me and then it is snatched away. How my ribcage opens and there’s nothing inside. How not feeling due to a side effect of medicine gets entangled with not feeling because I am making myself not feel. I surely have created a tangled mess, and it is my responsibility to untangle it.

I need a roadmap or I will get lost. No GPS for me, we are going old school and writing and drawing this all down on paper. I’ll start with a journal. Julia Cameron’s morning pages routine is my favorite – three pages of stream of consciousness writing, no revisions, just ready, set go! One great thing about morning pages, Cameron has said, is that it’s hard to complain about something over and over and not do something about it. Do you know who is the Queen of complaining with nary a change? Me. I’ve done morning pages before, and I know. It takes a lot to get me to change. But I want to try again. It’s familiar, and that’s comforting. Lord, grill me up some comfort with a side of mac ‘n cheese.

If I want to draw, I will. That will be a great act of courage, silly as that seems, because I told myself I am done with art. Which is ridiculous, because I know it isn’t done with me. There is a great fear that I have lost it, the magic that I used to have when I put pencil to paper. So no expectations. If I want to scribble like a three year old, I’m going to go for it.

I am humbled and saddened by a recent event in my life, and I am walking around it instead of talking about it. If we were all sitting in a circle around a campfire, exchanging stories, and one of us left during my story, out of love, and because the intensity of the flames were too much, I would continue to tend to the fire, but be forever aware that she helped me realize “sometimes we think we are healing, when really, we’ve just become good at numbing the parts of ourselves that hurt.” I am in awe of the strength and concern she showed in choosing an act so difficult and loving.