The best is yet to come...

The words are still here. They are in me. They have stopped dancing and swirling, but still live. Sometimes they are shrouded by cloudiness. Some sort of murky darkness blankets my words and they struggle to breathe. But they will never die. I have missed writing terribly. I have been busy—this is true—falling deeply in love, trying to find “work”, just living I guess, but I’d be lying if I said that was all. Many of you know-and those who don’t should—I suffer from the disease of alcoholism and addiction. Remember my blog about “screaming whispers?”—that was about a sad day in my life. Lately the whispers have gotten louder and it takes much of my energy and focus to quiet them. Jerry helps. Oh God, Jerry quiets them simply by touching me. I haven’t written in so long because I knew THIS had to be written. The words that were being blanketed weren’t happy words, or funny words, or even moving words. They were sad, aching, terrible words that I didn’t want to come out. I think today I realize that this sadness—this disease—is part of me. Just as much as the funny stories about sisters and mothers and the moving stories about daughters and nephews. There is sadness in me that just steals my words. Today, by writing this, I have stolen those words back. Bear with me loyal readers—the best is yet to come…