I wish that I could mark my heart’s healing like I can mark my body’s healing after surgery-wound closes, scar remains, function returns, and forget about it.
But I can’t.
This journey is like walking those narrow ledges on the side of a mountain-doable, but requiring careful attention lest I fall off.
So far, so good.
But I hate days when my attention is drawn back to the threat of falling instead of the journey itself.
Almost three years [now four] and here I am-
still on the edge.
On the edge of an anxiety attack.
On the edge of the cliff of deep sorrow and darkness that threatens to swallow every thing bright in my life.
Read the rest here: On The Edge
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