|Dawn on Lake Opeongo, Algonquin Provincial Park|
My perception, assumption and opinion is that the last blog on Joy is my best creative writing to date.
What's more is; I had fun writing it. The endorphins fully active and engaged as I looked through my pictures of that walk. Remembered the peace, comfort and companionship. Those remembrances soothed my soul like a balm.
"Joy" more or less wrote itself. Flowed from my carpel tunneled fingertips almost flawlessly. Only minor revisions needed - mostly typos (due to those numb, tingly fingertips).
The topic was also more of a surface layer. Giving me a respite from the deep stuff. The hard work going on continuously under the surface. The part that is vital to recovery, but never seen by others. The part less understood. The part only those closest to me even have a clue about. The part that is so hard to write about. So revealing. Intimate.
Not only was the unexpected respite part of the mystery and joy, but also the time of camaraderie and companionship with someone who has been walking with me step by dragging step through the deep stuff. The smelly stuff. The dog doo of emotions and emotional healing.
|Growth in the hard places|
Emotionally and blog-wise, I'm on the emotional equivalent of a big, sunny rock in a scenic place, a good book on my lap, my camera by my side. Allowing myself to bask in the peace, that place, that this space provides.
Allowing myself a respite, a healing, soothing place before the intensity of coping with the trauma and its affects intervenes once again. Demanding my time, attention and energy.
It will intervene once again. With all its drama and pain, it will come again. When it does, I'll be fresh and ready from my brief emotional vacation to attack the issues anew. Refreshed.
|A place to rest and refresh|
in the midst of a sometime painful