I am staying at Kailua Vision Studio. I think of it as a residency: I write and take care of my mind and body because of the generosity of my friend. I used to live here years ago, but it was just a studio then. I worried that I was going backwards but as I remembered Heraclitus, it is not possible to step into the same river twice--and I am a different woman. This time it is a space of healing and expansion. I am spending a lot of time alone but without the accompaniment of liquid red grapes. I am learning how to be gentle with myself as hours stretch by, watching the sun set behind frosted window pane. The paintings of my friend on the wall bring comfort of a creative process around me, the brushes and the pens a constant reminder that another mark is just a gesture away, that we can always remake our life just like we can remake the canvas in front of us.
Today marks two weeks since I began taking antidepressants for the first time in my life. It’s also been two weeks since I decided on altering my relationship with alcohol. In those two weeks I had drinks with a friend on two different days: a moderate amount of dinner wine and Italian brunch mimosas. I consider that a success of my vows. I have vowed never again to drink alone, to drink because of being alone and scared of being alone. I have vowed never to reach for alcohol because of fear of confronting the day before me. I have vowed never again to treat alcohol as a replacement for looking deep within myself or a conduit of escaping from myself. The darkness never lifted on solo drinking occasions in the past, it was only momentarily redirected before hitting me even harder at 4 in the morning when I would wake up in utter panic and dread. I never felt better after the fact. The depression only deepened, the anxiety only heightened and the self-loathing only increased. Self-medicating days are over and this time I am putting my faith in science of the brain.
I’m not sure if my body is already responding to the extra serotonin or if the placebo effect is in full swing, and I’m not sure that it matters all that much. What is crucial is the sense of well-being I feel at the thought of taking care of myself. And actually starting to feel calm and confident. I am doing all that I can to help the medication. I am nourishing myself with whole grains and vegetables, hydrating my body post weight-resistance exercises that I do right next to the bed where I am finally sleeping through the night. I am getting my life back, for the first time in my life. I am finally writing again, not letting the thoughts circulate obsessively in my brain only. I could not do it without the help of my best friend and his beloved girlfriend. Everyday I wake up I understand that my recovery is my path alone and that only I can make informed choices of healing but the knowledge of being accountable to someone who cares so much lifts me up so I can fight harder to succeed.
You cannot step into the same river twice but you certainly can fall into the same hole again leading up to it. What I am choosing to do and think, reflects the belief that the river has already carried away all of my insecurities and mistakes and that I can clearly see a good path ahead of me. And that when I step into it, it is certainly not the river of my death but of my rebirth: a river that will carry me to fulfillment of my inner dictates. Philosopher Simone Weil said that “if we go down into ourselves we find that we possess exactly what we desire”, and as I let the current of the metaphoric river carry me into the future I am keeping an eye on the treasures I hold within myself.