Trees

When I came back to my hometown around 8 months ago, with no job, no friends to be with on a regular basis - in fact, no social interactions of any kind aside from toxic family relationships -, I felt that everything I valued had been stripped away from me, while I was held in a prison that I had no physical condition of getting out of. I fear there are many others like me, living an unlived life due to their physical limitation and the complications that come with it.

Immobile as a tree. Losing our love, our enthusiasm, our energy like leaves that fall down when there's no longer any water to nurture our gifts. A victim of the environment. The only water available are the tears that fall from watching everything you love crumble down. Watching the idea of who you thought you were in the world and the purpose you thought you served in the world crumble down. An unfulfilled potential, a tree simply not allowed to grow.

But the thing about a drought is that if you can survive it, you might just find new sources to give you life. And the thing about tears is that they can also nurture into a new growth. And you might realize that the things that kept you contented before are no longer a good fit, because after having months with nothing to do but to contemplate for the first time the full reality of a lifetime of endurance, I found that what I need is a new sense of joy, a source that runs deeper and makes me stronger, so that I can finally grow some roots. And I can say that now I might be in the process of finding just that.

#depression #immobility