Can you Write a new Life Into Being?

By Kitty Hannah Eden: For More Info, Go Here…

The page is the only safe space I have.

When I lost my writing voice for five years as a result of major depressive disorder, that one safe space disappeared. I started withering away; the vocation for which I had sacrificed so much and which defined me became a fading memory.

As my brain began to atrophy and cannibalize itself, the illness attacked everything that made me me. My trademark sunniness and good humor vanished. My playfulness died, and my ability to see beauty in everything and everyone disappeared. A world I had up to then experienced in vibrant technicolor became black and white.

Soon, everything blended into the uniform gray of inescapable sadness reflected in my eyes.

Even when I made a superhuman effort to crack a smile, my gaze betrayed me and remained that of someone who was barely alive. I could no longer recognize the person staring back at me in the mirror.

As my survival instinct kicked in, I realized I’d have to face the page again if I was to save myself. And so I did, eking out fragments of text that were so steeped in angst and pain they were unpublishable. It took me a while until I ended up with an essay, it took me even longer to work up the courage to share it and out myself as a fallible and imperfect human.

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