Already this week, I am anxious again. I have cried so many times, and felt grief for the loss of my father, grief and anger for the damage of my grandmother—I have struggled with the news of my past, that I was bullied and developed PTSD, and I have wanted to ball this little town up in a crumpled paper and throw it away. I have cooked twice this week, Halibut and Chicken, and I’ve eaten a lot of fiber, so I’m practically a walking gas factory, but I have learned so much about myself, and I have dug in deep to the inner James.
I am scared and excited about the future--much of what we learn here is to talk about feelings, so at times I feel I am talking in circles. Matt Poinsette my counselor spends a lot of time, digging into the inner layers of James Enelow, trying to get him to come out, and to act strong and vulnerable.
Matt Gandall hits me hard every week, with a mixture of faith based work and a mixture of hard therapy, and it’s really very rough.
I have never gotten so quickly used to it here, where daily there are moments of reflection and moments of knowledge. It will be hard to let this go, and to get better.
Today, I am planning a short respite at a local downtown faire, called the taste of Edmonds. I’m awaiting information on my sleep study and hope for a CPAP machine. All of that is very very iffy for the future. The good news Is that I am excited for my recovery and excited for the friends I have made.
There’s a lot of potential in me, and I’m alive again to my prospects, so I want to get better in so many ways. I miss you and the family, and I grieve for the time I spent wallowing in my weakness. A lot of letting go has come to pass, so my future is slightly wide open. I thought for a moment about us living here, in this state. It is utterly beautiful here, and I am so sad that you could not see it.
This place has a healing property to it, and the food tastes as if it is good inside of me. I feel healthier. Many of the people around me don’t take the nutrition seriously, but I am, and I have eaten to much hummus that I don’t seem to have any acne and my skin shines. I don’t know what the future is going to bring, but I am anxious for these tools. The insurance has taken away one of my days, because I have been getting better. I was slightly miffed at this because I felt I was punished for getting better.
Its hard not to want to get better here. I think a lot about you and the family. I think about Amelie and hope she is well, and that you are all well. IT makes me happy you have stopped smoking and are trying. I want to be home soon and am half scared not to be home.
All these days seem to fold into one, I’m scared and excited and I feel as if a long book is reaching its end. I want every page to last a few more days. I want ever sentence to stretch out for days, and I want there to be less shaking in my hands, and less struggle in my heart.
The flame that once burned inside of me, and burned too black is starting to die, and there is a new spark of life and hope in me. My far away one, will I be able to come home to your arms—will I be able to keep getting better and will all my days be a blessing of life and happiness. The darkness that was my depression lifts like a cold blanket, a regret of life I want to throw away and be better about. I long for you and me to be as we must be--helpmates and full of hope, alive to a future. I think of you as I finish this and a smile comes to my lips.
My last pages wait and on them I write the future. I want life and to be born anew with possibilities, I want to take the coin in my hands and out the door and onto the street with my shoulders hunched no more. I dream your name and make a wish for myself and us.
One,Two, Three, All my heart is yours.
James
James
