A few months ago, I wasnt able to actively take pleasure in small things; today though, I noticed something. Getting dressing, eating breakfast, a short walk round the local country park, those things we take for granted – those things were again gratifying (of course, with a small tendency of food related activities chewing my brain). I dont ever remember laughing, talking, walking, feeling the breeze on my face and the sun on my back and really relishing and savouring the day for all that it was. I remember wanting to, but not really knowing how, but today? Today it just came (and went), and I just noticed.
Im being careful not to breathe too fast or too slow or run before I can walk and Im okay with the fact that this sense of alien contentment may or may not last, but I am cherishing every minute of it while it does. It feels so good to feel passionate again, spending time preoccupied with art and opportunities and possible projects because I feel that I can, because I am able and because that the future feels much more bright than it did months ago. Its between the distance of wanting light and feeling it, and being the light and seeking it.
And, you know, Im looking forward to tomorrow, and I dont even remember the last time I looked forward (to anything). Maybe the answer to finding meaning isnt in recovery itself, but in everyday things – in making everyday bigger and wider and more than it was yesterday, so that dis-ease becomes less and grasps less.