I know simple answers- the gym, raw veggies, time management. But it all feels like swimming through jello. Uphill. I know things, I can feel them gathering energy like I want to be born. Birthbirthbirth this week, remembering when I had a baby- not this awe-inspiring little supernova-creative-force of a person who is turning a solid, square Four this week.
I know the connection I made with Shane was born of a lake in the woods, and that the camping trips this summer are like a necessary ritual. I know he understood when I told him, "Let's go anywhere there's a body of water." I know he could read in me that I'm thirsty for quiet and cool water and the dancing, kinetic triangle we make, watching our little one bounce between us.
I'm in a little fog of forgetting and quicksand time, but I know things.
I looked in the mirror and saw that I am a sturdy being, and I knew like you know gravity that I'm never going to be the wavering wraith the depression made of me. I knew that worries and mourning are in my past and future but that the shapeless, fluid darkness of not living in myself is buried.