I have been stuck for some time, trying to conjure a new post of substance.  There has definitely been an element of the words just not coming for me, but I think that element is secondary to something else.  Something that, in the context of communicating with you about my mental health struggles, is actually quite enormous.

I have shared a great deal with all of you lovelies over the past year.  Rages and rants and reports of the terror and dysfunction and battles in my mind.  Excruciating mania, near catatonic depression, paralyzing anxiety. . .  There has just been a lot.

But there has also been so much more.  Things that no one knows.  Things that even I didn’t know were going on at the time, or if I did, I had no concept until recently of the extreme severity of matters.

So much of it is difficult for me to frame into any kind of words.  Probably because I am still trying to wrap my head around it.

The debate that reigns inside of me is more complex even than that.  I have always done my best to be as honest and transparent about my struggles as I can be.  A big part of me feels like a fraud, not sharing all of this with you.  Okay, if I’m just not ready, that’s one thing.  That certainly isn’t something that anyone (even me) can fault me for.  These things take time.

It goes much deeper than that.  There are things that went on that I don’t know if I could ever bring myself to share.  A part of that feeling is because things became so distorted and complex, I don’t know if I could really convey what happened.  And another part of it is. . . well it isn’t fear, I’m not afraid to tell.  It has more to do with how incredibly intimate these things are to me.

But there is a part of me that is fighting to try to make me put everything out there.  I don’t want to tell only half of the story.  I don’t want to omit these incredibly real. . . well things that happened inside of me.  I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that they need to be told.  Right now, no one knows the whole of it, and only one or two of my doctors even know small pieces.

There is so much yet untold.  It is staggering for me to even think about, let alone try to find a place to begin.  But something has to give, because this has become a continuous and constant stream of thought in my mind.  It isn’t a barrage, it isn’t an obsessive monologue. I am still happy, and functioning very well with it doing its thing.

But it never leaves me, and that is enough.

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