I start this blog with the situation today. The past, the starting point, is a place I have visited countless times; today, I choose to dwell in the now. Inevitably, that past will surface in my future posts.

Today, things are relatively good. I remain on two types of medication and am in the midst of an EMDR process, striving to untangle feelings about my trauma, if they ever surface at all. As a result of trauma, I have become this: I do not feel. My system has fortified itself so intensely that I’ve become an almost emotionless entity. This applies to my trauma, but also in everyday life. It is a facet of depression that people may not truly grasp. The numbness. We are not sorrowful, we function, we do not act dramatic, we do not cry. We merely exist. We don’t laugh, derive pleasure from anything, or harbor passions.

That is who I am. That is “E.” Yet, things are better than they once were. I now contemplate what I desire from life, whereas previously, I did not wish to live at all. But what grants me meaning? There is little left that feels intrinsically mine. I once was creative, a poet… Now: a blank sheet, eager to be inscribed, but the ink is dry. I yearn to inspire and be inspired, but I remain a barren desert. Depression has stripped me bare. Now, I find myself at a juncture where I can begin anew, but the starting line is blurred. The building blocks are gone. I must reinvent myself, yet it lacks a grand big bang – a world born from which to choose. I am without identity, merely a bottomless pit devoid of content.

With this blog, I embark on a quest for meaning, for somethingness.