Walking Through Melancholy

fishing

For a few days now, my heart and mind have felt indifferent about writing. I’ve been blogging, consistently, for seven years.  As I sit here and think about that journey, I can’t remember another time where I’ve gone through a creative season quite like this.

For seven years, more often than not, I’ve jumped out of bed before the sun, eager to thread a few words and thoughts together. I sit here this morning trying to search for the word to describe this place and melancholy is the only one that comes to mind.  And, yet, I don’t feel tearful or emotional. There simply seems to be this calm, quite, just below the surface sadness…lingering.  My best guess is this is part of the grieving/healing process and the only way out is through.

I keep reminding myself that the last time I lost a parent my reaction was different. I attempted to run, stuff, hide, and ignore the pain. When that didn’t suffice, I added a dysfunctional, unhealthy, codependent relationship and wrapped it all up in a booze numbing band-aid. I don’t need to tell you that those grief journey choices didn’t lead me out, they just led me deeper into the dark.

So I’m sitting here admitting that I’m melancholy.  And, that’s okay.  I’m allowing space and time to walk through it all. It’s all part of the journey. I’m not hiding. I’m not stuffing. I’m not ignoring.  I am, however, reminding myself that there is no need to try to journey this road all alone. And, why would I want too? I know where that choice can lead.

I’ve logged enough time in the dark.
I choose light, His light.
I choose abundant grace and new mercies.

This morning, this song was part of a Facebook post I shared three years ago. I listened to it again this morning.  It was food for my soul.

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