I’ve hit a wall before, even this year in the midst of all that came crashing onto my plate with regard to my dad. But I’m looking at another hard wall, this time a lot more personal and a lot darker. I’m writing to shed light on it and to share the burden to make it less heavy for me. Natalie had this premonition before I did (I think it’s even mentioned in a previous entry) and it’s all too true. She declared, “This isn’t fun” to her brother and our friend last time we were in Denver. I’m not having fun and in fact have been getting repeatedly sick, a physical manifestation of something deeper happening in my psyche. I get a depression just about every October/November since my mom died ten years ago. But this month, with all that’s going on (or not?) in our day to day lives, that depression is beyond my normal course of management. I’m actively looking for some mental health help and probably at getting back on antidepressants for awhile at least until our lives get a little more stable.

The strain on our nation’s healthcare system means the best chance at me getting the help I need is not in Farmington NM, but back in Denver. Coming “home” yet again, this time for nobody but myself. Natalie is coming with me and we are leaving the boys to the building and plodding forward.

Never in my 40 years have I had this despairing sense of I don’t know what is next for this long. I can usually makeshift or look on the bright side or what have you, but this time I’m completely out of plans, ideas, dreams, almost out of hope. And forgive me dear daughter for sweeping your exact same concerns under the rug last post. Like I said there, we’ll get you some help too.

We’ve continued prioritizing the bus building because that is secure and low-cost housing once it is complete, but when will that be?, I don’t know. Our 20’ trailer has kept us warm and secure but it was never intended to be full time living for this length of time. I keep looking on the bright side even when my back is screaming for a better solution to our pull out bed. I keep minimizing our needs when compared to the whole of humanity and can say we still have so much. I’m tired all the time despite sleeping soundly for 8-9 hours almost every night. Besides my children, I don’t have a lot of purpose or a project I can pour into while Zach does the construction. (I’m more of the planner for the bus and not the physical builder, that’s just knowing my strengths.) but yes, back to plans. I’ve noticed these languishing weeks that I can’t plan out anything. Don’t have the strength or mental fortuity for it. Ask me what’s for dinner, hopefully someone else has an idea. Ask me what we’re doing for the day, ummm maybe taking a walk if I’m done recovering from being physically sick, beyond that I don’t know, nor do I care. I’m 100% in survival mode and it is completely exhausting. I cannot keep existing like this.

Not sure how to wrap this one up. I guess it’s the underbelly side you don’t see on a typical nomad’s Instagram feed. I went to a church service (in person!) for the first time in two years yesterday and we chanted this,

“Our darkness is never darkness in your sight, the deepest night is clear as the daylight.”

So that was fitting for me and I’ll hold onto that hope.