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I don’t know why I suddenly felt like crying on my drive back home tonight.

I had been sitting with someone not fifteen minutes prior talking about how, as crazy and illogical as it is, I just know that my life is going to open up here. I was talking about this absolute faith I have that I am meant to be here. About how certain I feel that this is where I am going to come into myself in a new and wonderful way, and how I trust that amazing things will emerge from it.

Then I got in my car and felt myself on the verge of tears. It felt a bit like grief, a bit like heartbreak, a bit like cracking open, and a bit like love.

I don’t know how much sense I can make of the experiences I am having. I am living and it is changing me.

I don’t think the identity of the Depressed person fits me anymore.  I think it is one more thing for me to shed. There is so much letting go to do. So much clearing out. So much of me to free. It’s beautiful and scary. It’s grey and unknown. I want to step out from beneath my stories. I want to be open to discovering who I am Now, rather than assuming myself to be the person I’ve known.

It is grief and heartbreak and hope and love. It is sadness and it is joy.

It’s pretty fucking amazing, and I pray it just keeps going.