I spent the last year or so mostly floating in the abyss. Losing my sense of smell was only one reason I lost what I call traction -- the sense of being able to have an effect on the world. Sending hundreds of resumes without getting a response left me feeling invisible. My stress-induced difficultiies with writing meant I wasn't getting responses to DW/LJ posts. (Did you know how important those responses are to me?) Stress generally drives me out of my body and into my head, so I wasn't engaging with much of the sensuous world even with my reduced sensory capacity, and living alone meant I wasn't engaging much with other people. Not a good set of circumstances.
Now the spiral is going the other way. Doing a good job of editing makes me feel strong and proud. Living with the family gives me much more contact with people, and it also means I am less terrified about money. Being able to relax a bit about that has reduced my terror level to the point where I can write again -- not just posts, but, you know, writing. And that strengthens my voice. The regained sense of smell isn't complete, but it's a delight as far as it goes, and I do not take it for granted.
I dreamed the other night that I was watching the ground flowing like a river, then rise in waves like the sea. I walked barefoot across the grassy hills, and in the dream I could feel every blade of grass, and the slight yielding of damp earth -- an ecstatic feeling for me, in life as well as dreams. Then I lay down on the hillside and dug my hands into the soft earth. It had the crumbly semi-solidity of halvah, and it tasted something like halvah, too, but with an edge of ginger. Yes, I fed myself directly with the dirt. It was delicious.