I haven’t been blogging because there is a dearth of things to blog about. At least that is what I tell myself. The reason that’s closer to the truth is that somehow I have managed to put my life in suspended mode, allowing only for absolute necessities like work, sleep, hygiene, food, and occasional prayer. Keeping social interactions to a minimum, not really taking notice of anything in particular. Ignoring most things, in fact. Especially those that remain obstinate sources of sadness and pain. For now, it is much more manageable to live as though everything around and about me was a blur. There is a fear that if I start to dwell on the details—the rude intricacies of my present personal situation—I would break down and shatter into a million pieces. Assuming I haven’t yet.
Maybe this is escapism. But I can allow myself that if only for a time, can’t I? The events of the past months have left me broken in many places. It is only now that I sense the wounds—where they are and how bad they are. Mornings, it’s all I can do to tell myself that the sun has once again risen, a blinding reminder that life goes on and I should to. It takes heroic strength to muster enough momentum to subject myself to partake of life’s daily concoction of laughter, frustration, exhaustion, pollution, emptiness, confusion. And then, at nightfall, when all is dark and silent, to be prey again to the merciless ghosts of pain and brokenness.
Ahh, my words flow effortlessly when poured by gloom. I look forward to the day when I would be wordless because joy and peace have graced me with their company. I have a strong feeling I will relish that moment of utter muteness—one too joyful to blog about.