A return?

I've been sojourning in a strange land with no means of navigation which has led more to inaction and pondering my location rather than choosing any particular direction in hopes of finding my way back to the land I once I knew. I often wonder if I will ever find my way back!

Every now and then I stand up and take a few steps in a direction, only to return to the stump I've been sitting on for fear that it is the wrong direction. The sun rises and the sun sets and I still sit. I know which direction is which--but I don't know where I am, so directions are meaningless.

Sometimes I convince myself that anywhere would be better than here. There is nothing here but ghosts and they don't talk.

What can I say--could I go through the kind of stress I've been through this past year and a half and not spiral down into the depths of the dark cave of depression? Every day is a new day--because no thread from yesterday hangs limply over my head for me to grasp and work with. It seems my lethargy is contagious because the landscape seems changeless as those who are supposed to be working toward a solution seem as discontinuous as I am and so things just remain where they are, unmoved.

I had hoped to return to blogging a month ago and I made one weak stab in that direction--it was great to feel a moment of inspiration of any kind. Then my browser began to act up and I deleted it from my hard drive. With it I lost my links, my Blogger identity (I'd forgotten it) and the means to find it. I also lost all my other links--my friends, too.

If I visit here, what I am going to have to do, and I am obviously hesitant to do, is write about what I don't want to think about. Past journeys through this dark land have taught me that when I finally begin to feel the need to struggle against the darkness, I'm on my way up out of the abyss. I always used to seek counseling at this point. More than once I've finally just scolded my counselor and said, "I just have to DOOOO something!" Okay, so I am prone to depression--but according to the psychiatrist I've never been clinically depressed and so some suffer far more depth than I do. This is bad enough, thank you.

My health continues to bounce around--some days I feel great and some, terrible. I realized that I almost dread the days I feel great because they seem to precede the days I feel terrible. I think fear has a great deal to do with why I'm stymied and simply sitting here on this stump not doing anything. I just don't know what the future will bring--will I ever be able to live in my own home? Will I have to leave all and go live where the mold isn't so prevalent? Is this controllable or is this going to get worse? And finally--are these days the beginning of the end? Will it kill me? The weird thing is that I've been asking these questions for more than two years now and I have no more answers now than I did then.

Hope that I remember to get batteries for my camera so that I can take photographs of my home and my companions to share with you. And hope that I'll remember to come back and post and that I'll remember where my blog is, too.