There has been so much happening, and yet so little to tell.
The internal happenings are too fragile to describe with any coherence. I've discovered that even though I say I'm not forever broken ... I am, indeed, still quite broken. But that's okay. Because being broken is part of what it means to be human, and I really am okay with being human. I find that I am much more messed up than I thought I was, but I am also probably not nearly as messed up as I think I am.
Do I overthink these things? Probably.
The external things are too new to write about, but there could be a very different direction in my future, one that I have "always" wanted -- or at least one that I've wanted for the last 32 or 33 years. It's exciting and unnerving and unsettling and ... I need to take a deep breath and see if it's the right direction.
The real happening is that I am engaging myself again, listening again, breathing again. And this is all very good.