here is a fact, here is a metaphor.

I haven't written lately and I don't know if that's because I have nothing to say, too much to say, or I've forgotten. Maybe I'm losing it, I think. Maybe I can't write anymore. I'm trying to feel okay about feeling everything and not knowing how to describe or explain just what that looks like. I went for a run this morning and the path was deserted except for me and two rabbits and a squirrel. The air smelled murky and like mulch and forgotten things. Already the leaves are turning. Already the trees are changing. Already we are letting go.

I speak in metaphor because it's easier than nailing down the facts. Metaphor is fluid, changeable, easily misunderstood. A way to say what you intend without explanation. Facts are unchangeable, often misinterpreted but they are not soluble things. Here is a fact: I am alive. Here is a metaphor: I don't know what that means.

My homeopath put me on a strict regime of eating habits, including 3 cups of steamed greens a day, protein each meal, something called potato peel broth I'm supposed to make from the skins of six potatoes and a carrot, and over a hundred dollars worth of supplements. That's the give, here's the take: I've had no sugar, no wheat, no dairy, no coffee, no nuts, since last week Wednesday. I feel much better. This is a fact, however inconvenient it may be. The first four days the drugs, namely sugar and caffeine, worked their way out of my system. I took a nap everyday until Saturday, something I only do if I'm exhausted. In this case, I couldn't keep my eyes open. I'm awake now.

What we feed on feeds us, in true nature. Good begets good, bad begets bad. Yesterday I craved kale until I ate a whole bunch, sautéed slowly with coconut oil and lemon, salt and pepper. Sometimes I eat it with ginger. That was the turning point, I think. I've lost weight in five days, unintentionally and what at first felt unexplainably. The quality, the content, what it does for not just our souls but our bodies, matters. This reminds me in all areas of my life to feed myself well.
Here is another fact: food is a drug. Here is another metaphor: I'm coming off my own highs. Do you see what I mean about the difference between fact and metaphor? One is explainable, understandable, the other is reaching. After my parents separated, I vacillated between feeling everything until I feared I would choke, or feeling nothing until I feared I would drown. My solution was to eat, to watch movies, to go online and talk to people and not feel so alone. I gained weight and a knowledge of pop trivia, but the sadness did not go away.

On my run, I thought, she is a woman whom sadness made rest, but she is not empty. Maybe I'll write on that, maybe there's a story there, maybe it's just for me. I saved the words, repeating them over and over until I could write that down. Maybe sadness comes to sit with all of us. Maybe the only way to move forward is to not begrudge her, not ignore her, not scold her, but treat her with gentleness and compassion.

This week is the first week in about a month I haven't had nightmares. I woke up yesterday and realized my dreams did not scare me. There was no mist hanging around my head like a dark shroud I could not take off. I felt relieved enough to fall asleep again. Maybe this is from eating better, or from scraping off stress (an effective method, though not the safest), or from simply moving towards peace. All I know is I'm not afraid to sleep anymore. I'm not afraid of food anymore. I'm not afraid of my body, of the way it curves and aches and needs.

What does not sustain, propel towards growth, fill, cut it out, trim the fat, sweep out the old. Sugar feeds me, but does not sustain me. Flattery feeds me, but does not sustain me. Hatred and shame of myself neither feeds or sustains but instead grows like a weed. Cut it out, trim off the fat. Maybe that's where the nightmares went, alongside with the self-loathing and shame, they packed their bags and left permanently.

Another fact: I am a writer. Another metaphor: I wish I could tell you where my heart goes when my chest shakes.