Change of Scenery For a Change of P(e)ace

Wow … it has been a hot minute since my last post. This little blog has always been a way for me to express myself and hopefully offer a little change of perspective for anyone who’d happen to stumble upon my writings. Writing always brought me clarity, even when all else failed.

These past few months have had a huge impact on my life and the way I see the world. My depression has taken me to new depths, my social anxiety has left me with a number of friends I could count on one hand (and chop a few fingers off at that), my self-esteem and the feeling of self-worth were lost. Sure, I’d get a little better, but then it came up again. I was in constant turmoil and battling myself and my surroundings.

One night in January, I thought I’d loose it. My marbles and my life. I managed to survive myself and the workings of my brain. One night a month later I was shown it could get worse. I couldn’t understand it. I have so much knowledge, so many tools to work with. Nothing helped. Writing was the last thing on my mind. The only thing I honestly wanted to write was my suicide letter.

But I survived. I clung to the thought of the very few that love me and I chose minute by minute to stay here and wait for the pain to be over. And it came: the silence. A minute of peace. If I could find one, I’ll surely be able to find another, right? Yes. They came. And so did my resolve and determination. I can change my life. I can be better. Depression, fear and anxiety are just signs of where I am. Nothing else, nothing more. I have so much to give and this part of my life right now is just another way of finding new depths of myself, of discovering my true power and a way to help others with my experience.

In the last few months I was also shown that I need a change of scenery. I always thought I could never live anywhere else. I look out the window to find the comfort of the trees I have known my whole life, the lines of hills which have helped shape me and a smell of  damp, deep green comfort. But now I know they have also brought me a lack of clarity, have restricted me and have suffocated me.

I am waking up to the fact that a change of scenery is not a failure. I always thought it would be for my life. Why would I want to leave this place I have known all my life? I have so desperately loved it- why would I ever want to leave? I now realise I have to. I have let myself be defined by something which grows and changes whether I like it or not. I have no control over my past. It has happened. I’d like to look at it from a different perspective. I feel I can only achieve that somewhere … not here.

I went for a walk today. I wasn’t planning on anything or actually even thinking of anything special. But something inspired me to stop. I looked up at the forest I spent my entire life observing and suddenly said goodbye. It just came out of me: I said goodbye to the scent of my broken-hearted childhood. I wished for the resentment to be blown away with a gust of wind. I asked for a dry leaf rolling about in the wind to roll away the fear and hurt of never being good enough to be loved. I finally told my trees that I’ll always love them, but I will soon have to go. I want to love my trees because I feel free to do so, not because I am helplessly clinging to a past which is long gone.

I write this as tears stream down my face. I am so afraid. Taking the steps which will ensure a future away from my hills and my forest are actually heart-breaking. I feel as though I am letting my father down. He was in love with his hills and his forest. I can still hear his voice when I sit outside. I know I will never hear it again and that makes those trees another way of missing him even more. I know in my heart he wouldn’t want me to cling to what he loved just because I miss him. His creations are not my own. I realise that now. All he’d ever want is for his children to find happiness. And so I will.



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