Crying Alice, at last.

Time freezes unexpectedly, suddenly. It thaws just as suddenly, and you come back to life gasping for air, wondering where you've been, where you are, and what's happened in the space in between. This has happened before. One day it will happen again. The last time lasted nearly three years, following the death of my mother. I woke up to find myself transformed in largely positive ways. I found purpose, courage and a capacity for love I'd previously been lacking. This time, the here and now time, lasted nearly six years; six years of paralyzing numb dissociation, paralleled by the creeping numb paralysis of my body via Multiple Sclerosis. The catalyst for my six year hibernation was the event described in my previous post. I did not awaken improved. My health has reached a zenith of alarmingly assertive prominence in my life as it's nadir of quality wails inside the walls of my heart around the clock. Yet I am here, gasping for air, grasping for an anchor. I know what lies in the space between then and now. Erosion. Destruction. Neglected husks of relationships I had no will to save. This time, I woke up in a hellscape of personal pain, amplified by the hellscape of suffering all around the world. I'm not interested in my pain. That's the positive of now. Here you will find me, searching for a way to fight.