I have been in my head a lot lately.  The new house and the toddler are keeping me rather busy, but it's the thoughts in my own head that are forming a mental block.  I haven't been able to form the thoughts into words just yet.  I have been trying, but it is so hard sometimes when you are down deep into yourself.

I'm deep.  I'm sitting on my knees in some corner of my soul, sifting through things.  I'm piecing things together; I'm trying to make them make sense.  I have certain things stacked to my right-those are the things that I need to talk about-I just can't find the words.  So, those things, they will sit.  They will sit until the words come.  So, for now, I busy myself with the other small things.  Small thoughts.  Small words.  Small parts of myself.

I hope, soon, I can get up off of my knees and come back to the surface.

It is so hard to breathe in this state of being.

All I want to do is take a huge, deep, refreshing breath and come back to the surface.  I can't do that just yet.  I have to let these thoughts run their course.  I have to mull them over and over and over again before they will finally cease.  I have to give in so I can process these thoughts and figure out how to deal with them all.

If I don't, I sink further.  I have never forgotten what the edge feels like.  I remember the light-headed, teetering feeling.  I remember the moments before the fall.  I remember the falling and then the nothing.  The nothing that felt like it lasted for decades.  The slow, quiet crawl of yourself, the agonizing and bleak existence of the shell that walks around in your life.  A being that waits with bated breath for an outcome they are not sure of.

I am trained now.  I know how to keep myself back from the edge.  It took years of hard work and patience and communicating internally with myself to know just what to do.  And what not to do.

It's exhausting, this holding myself back from the edge.  It is almost over though.  These words you are reading are proof of that.  I am coming back, slowly.