Balancing

I found my wedding album recently. It was in some boxes that I finally decided to sort through. Truth be told, one of the reasons I stayed away from the whole sorting project was because of stuff I might find, like the wedding album.

So I found it, but it took me two weeks to drum up the courage to look at it. I went through each page slowly, letting the memories and feelings and changes absorb. It was painful. I sobbed through a good portion of the process. It's haunted me since.

I showed the album to my therapist. I think that I wanted her validation - yes, this wedding did happen. Someone wanted to marry me at one point in my life. The beauty and love of that day existed pure and unaffected by the events that followed. I think I wanted her to see that I was a normal person, Nemo was a normal person, we were a normal couple even. Even if maybe we weren't.

I had agreed that Nemo would keep the album. For someone who violated every wedding vow, he sure had an interest in the wedding keepsakes. In one of my - go ahead and take all this, I certainly don't care about our wedding album because it obviously meant nothing - moods, I almost pushed the album into his hands and out the door. But at the last minute, I grabbed it. For three reasons. 1. It was my pet project (obsession) for months. I chose every photo, every placement, every page. With all the work I put into it, I couldn't just leave it behind. 2. The cost. I'm cheap, and I paid for it (almost) myself. 3. Sentimental reasons including knowing that I would eventually have a need to look at it, to convince myself that it did in fact happen.

I feel that I've pulled myself (mostly) out of the depths of depression, that I'm now able to control my anxiety and obsessiveness (all thanks to lots of pills and therapy), but what I'm now realizing is that I'm having to deal with feelings and events that I previously pushed aside because they were too painful.

At the same time, I'm emotionally fragile. With my current medications, therapy, routine, support, etc, I'm finally balancing on my big toe on the high wire. But anything, even a small thing, could make me topple over and have to start again. I'm fighting daily just for where I am now, and I'm afraid of losing the more stable ground I've discovered in the past few months.

I still feel paralyzed: too afraid to look back, too confused to go forward. But I try, a little at a time. When I'm ready. When I can set aside the time to cry over things like my wedding album, that at one time made me so happy.

And I dream about a happier, stable future. I have to believe that it's out there.