Re-entering the world after an extended absence is so very difficult, especially when there is no guarantee that it won't be necessary to disappear all over again. Even the computer screen feels uncomfortably bright. But re-engaging the world is necessary and good and lovely so I'll make another attempt at doing so for as long as I can stand the light. Coming to terms with permanent disability is a monumental mental task and in adjusting to the notion that my life may forever have a different path than what I imagined, I let all other extraneous pursuits fall by the wayside. Becoming comfortable in my own skin, accepting my body for what it is, appreciating it for all it has already given me...these thoughts have loomed large and needy in the forefront of my mind. Acceptance is, by no means, equal to acquiesance; giving in doesn't mean giving up and so I type these words as one sort of portal to the world.
Throughout the past several months, I've journaled on and off. Sometimes, just keeping up with the mundane demands of life was enough challenge for days on end and art often got shoved to the side. Most of my journaling was done in a book I started just for private ponderings; I've been pretty relaxed about publishing my pages but I felt I had to have at least one journal just for me. Even in that journal, there are some pages I won't mind airing out in the open. And when I wasn't actively doing art, I spent time thinking about art, weaving a sort of nest of dreams to contain my unsquashable hopes for an full-fledged, wildly satisfying artistic career. Of course, growing working wings is an awkward, ugly process, all full of stubby, half-realized beginnings. The trick is to believe that all those unfinished starts have the potential to continue to grow and transform into something really beautiful and useful. To do that, I need patience, perseverance, and the courage to brave the light when the darkness has been so comforting.