Not This Song has become a very eclectic place. I write about twelve-step recovery and about living with mental illness, and I write about living with the combination of these circumstances. But I also muse about spirituality in general, personal memories, parenting, science fiction and metaphors from all of these areas. Even some of my “bad” poetry finds its way onto the site. One could argue for splitting off some of this content into other blogs, but I don’t want to do that.
The varied nature of this site’s content pleases me, and I’m at peace (most of the time) with the fact that the site can’t be quickly or easily described any more than my goals for it can. This, after all, reflects the nature of integrative recovery in general and my recovery in particular: it’s complicated. It’s complicated because we are, and because life is, and because I write what speaks to me on a given day.
Making some of that complication visible and traceable is one of the greatest gifts of beginning to write. When I look back and see a series of essays, their different tone, mood, and especially subject matter sometimes seem as if they must have been written months rather than days apart. But they’re all current; they are all true for me, and by embracing their spectrum I honor my own multifaceted nature. I also get to see that words reflecting pain and darkness get bracketed by different ones: that the dark times pass, or at least change form into shapes I can work with.
There will always be recurring themes in my writing here; topics I can’t imagine running dry about.
I’ll keep writing about my recovery from drug addiction and eating disorders: what it’s like to live without my substances of choice, and the things I do to make that life something I want. The obstacles, doubts, and setbacks I encounter and what I do to get through them. What all this teaches me about being human.
I’ll keep writing about living with a mental illness and the things I do to try to make that life something I want. The attempts to learn acceptance, self-care, and adaptability.
I’ll keep writing about the deeply human experience of being a mother and what witnessing my child’s journey teaches me about love, acceptance, and powerlessness.
I’ll keep crafting metaphors out of stories, characters, objects, daily experiences and air molecules. I’ll keep writing bad poetry to share some of my less intellectual side and illustrate how important it is to learn to play.
I’ll keep writing about gratitude, and my attempts to live in it more often. How it feels to have my creativity flow, or my passionate nature stir, or my good qualities shine through. What inspires me and what I think about when I need a reason to keep going.
It’s only been six months, and about a hundred posts…but it’s long enough for me to know that doing this has not been one of those “fizzle” projects we have all had. I don’t know its destiny any more than I know my own, but that is all right for now. Not This Song will continue…and evolve. So will I.