Be Cruel to Be Kind

People say that you’ve “got to be cruel to be kind”. Perhaps, in some ways, it does work, by denying people a bit of extra help when it’s obvious that they can do the task on their own, no matter how much they’re struggling. Basically “tough love”, if you will. But for people who use this saying, I get the feeling that they don’t think in those moments of saying it about what cruelty really is…

I can be cruel. I mean, I can be truly cruel. The black thoughts in my mind, that always expect the worst. I’ve said before that I hope that my past experiences haven’t blackened my heart too much, said it quite recently, in fact, here. But I notice more and more how the dark thoughts are still there, how I end up thinking the worst of even the nicest of people because experience says that everyone will let me down in the end, that they will just run away and I’ll be alone again, always.

In times of struggles, no matter how minor, these thoughts come to the fore more strongly. I don’t see my own weaknesses until it’s too late and I’ve made a complete tit of myself once more. Then I’ve got to somehow dig myself out of the hole, repent the things I’ve said in haste and, in trying, it just gets deeper and deeper and deeper… Then they do run away, because I’ve driven them away through my actions. The cruelty inside of me comes out further, blaming them for being like everyone else that’s always let me down, even though I know it’s my fault. But as soon as I sit back and see how much of a failure I truly am, that I let my insecurities get in the way again, I break once more. I prepare to give up trying again, but the cycle always inevitably comes around again, whether I want it to or not.

Of course, it isn’t truly my fault; it’s the fault of all those that have hurt me in the past, with genuine ill intent. They’ve turned me into a bitter, insecure, untrusting mess. The more the years have gone on, the more that I’ve been let down and taken advantage of, the worse I have gotten. I keep trying to break the cycle, but I fear it might be too late. Despite all the kindness and love in my heart, that cruel side, that bitter side, is a fixed part that refuses to leave. Maybe someone will come along one day and prove me wrong, heal the hurts and remove the thorns that cause me to lash out in anger. Yet I fear it is too late for me. I don’t like being alone, but alone is probably the best place to be.

The Darkness Within

I live with a darkness inside of me. I think most of us do, actually. But mine is quite alive. Sometimes it seeps out, fed by the brokenness, gobbling up every jagged morsel with an unquenchable hunger. Sometimes it just sits there, acknowledging me with a silent glare, reflecting my inner turmoil and pain back at me. Today has been a day when it has tried to do both.

I run on waves of energy bursts in order to get things done. I can intensely focus for short spurts, during which I am able to achieve much. But as soon as that light, that energy dies, it leaves me feeling empty once more. The emptiness is revealing, showing me all the things I’m missing, feeding into that ever-hungry darkness, eating me alive. I try to scream at the darkness, but it is unyielding. I try to reason with it, but it is unlistening and refuses to leave me alone. Eventually it wins the round and leaves me crying, shaking once more, open and bare, my pain again revealed.

There have been too many losses, too many changes again of late. I’ve tried desperately hard to hold onto beautiful things that have come my way. Yet they always slip through my grasp, as I always manage to chase them away with my greedy need. One thing that my life has taught me is that I can’t have good things. Good things are for good, straightforward, normal people, not for broken people like me. And as much as I am aware that there is not really such a thing as a “norm”, it often feels to me that I am so far away from the hypothetical “norm” line that I will always be driven into being an outsider everywhere.

So, here I am again, alone, no hope of being saved, no hope of being loved. The darkness is winning the fight again. I know that it is still up to me as to whether I let it win the war or not, but each individual battle takes its toll and there will come a day when I am so exhausted that I won’t want to fight anymore. Let’s just hope that it’s for the right reasons and not because the darkness takes me forever.

About to Derail

There is so much stress in my life right now. Too many things to get done, with time running out in which to do it in. Plus, getting older, feeling every day as my life moves forward. I’ll soon be thirty-four. It’s not a pleasant thought at all, knowing how few years I have left to settle down, a time frame of about six years in which I can have kids, if I so wish to. But that isn’t primarily what’s driving me right now. No, what’s driving me right now is despair, that feeling of being a complete failure, of bringing destruction to everything I touch. I’m an unwanted reject, too broken to be of any use to anyone. Who wants damaged goods nowadays? Too many have come into my life leaving behind piles upon piles of destruction. All anyone has wanted to do is to destroy me. Me, being the fool, has gone in, open-hearted, giving my all, as I always have done, loving with very little return, until it eventually destroys me.

After everything I’d seen and been through, I had decided that enough was enough, that I would give up. Me, unwanted, unneeded, not willing to ever give a single part of me to those undeserving ever again.

But then, something happens, something that took me completely by surprise. A light came on. Someone turned on a light inside me, a fragile thing that I hadn’t seen for such a long time. All those times I’d tried to relight a dwindling flame that was barely existent to begin with and here, all of a sudden, was a light that lit itself. Greedily, desperately, with fear, hunger and wonder in my eyes, I try to grab it with shaky hands, as if it is the most precious thing in the world and I just have to have it. Such a rare jewel that I was losing all hope of ever finding and here it suddenly was. Yet, I’m a clumsy fool. I burn myself on the flame, drop it on the ground, try to smother it with a heart that is so achingly reaching towards it, desperate to feed it. The caretaker comes to remove it to a safe place, puts a glass tube over it and a cordon around it. It is taken away from me. I can see it, but can’t touch. I can still just about feel the warmth, but from a distance, an all-too-safe distance. I’ve fucked up again.

So, here I am, again. Unable to cope with the possibility that there might be hope for me out there, but at the same time unable to cope with the other possibility of a lifetime alone. Yet, alone appears to be where it must be. I wasn’t ready to love again and perhaps I never will be. But, there again, are any of us ever ready? I don’t know if we actually have much choice, really, when the arrow chooses to strike. We all have a choice of how to react and I know that, because of my past, I can never react well to it. I am a frightened fawn, caught in the headlights. I want and need so desperately, but at the same time I am terrified of being torn to shreds again once more. I become a jittery fool that scares everyone away. So, thus, it leaves me doomed to the only choice left available – being alone.

Perhaps, in time, it won’t become a bad thing. Perhaps in time I will learn to trust myself, the only person I know I can truly rely on. I have been too nice to and too trusting of others in the past and it has been my downfall. So I say no more. I am done being that fool. It’s time to let the bitch start her reign.

Long, Lonely Thoughts

Sometimes, I just like to sit and think, to watch the world go by. It can be anywhere: at home, on a bus, on a bench just watching the many people walk by, rushing to and fro. I sit and think a lot, try to find that place where I can gather my thoughts and take stock of what’s going on in my life.

The reason for this is, sometimes my life seems like a rush. My mind, often working in overdrive, getting even worse if I’m nervous or excited. Well, I’ve spent several weeks in various mixed states of both, with the depressiveness lurking in the background, constantly trying to creep up on me and snatch me away back into the darkness. With all the drama and trauma of the past few months, at points I didn’t think I’d survive it, and with my life in a constant state of turmoil, it is, perhaps, quite surprising that I’ve made it this far at all.

So, a lot of my time, currently, is spent alone, just thinking:
Where am I going? What am I to do next? Am I doing the right thing? Will everything work out in the end?

This life seems so filled with unanswerable questions. Sometimes I really don’t have any faith at all that the next stage of my life will go any better, so I continue to ask them, to the empty air around me, sometimes shouting, screaming them out, ‘Don’t I deserve to live?!’ But nothing ever answers. The wind, the traffic, the subtle shuffling of life whispers in the silence. Yet, apart from that, there is just silence.

So, I look to the answers within myself, yet they’re always further questions:
Do I have the strength to try again? Do I even want to try? If I do try, could this be my last chance? But, considering it all, what other choice to I have but to try to make the best of what I have here, right now?

I sit and let the silence fill me, almost watching the world turn, go by, conserving my strength. If this is going to be my last fight, my last battle, then I will need all the energy available to me. I’m on my own now. I have a handful of great friends out there, but they can’t hold my hand where I’m going. So, I truly am on my own.

Somehow I need to find that strength to pull myself through, to bring myself to the next stage of the journey. I need hope, belief, however vague, that it will all be worthwhile in the end. For I know now that if I fail again, if I fail this time, then it will be the last.

Getting Away From it All

My life hasn’t been ideal of late, as you may have realised from my previous post. It’s brought me back to a point that I thought I’d never return to, a place I never wanted to see again.

If it’s not the eternal struggle to find work, not just good work but good work that I can get to easily whilst only being able to use public transport, then it’s something else, like the constant fighting at home, to a point where I no longer know where I should call home.

I have been aware for a while that it’s time to move on, but when you have limited financial means, it doesn’t make it that easy. Yes, I could go back to how I was before, and just run away from it all, but I know that that won’t solve the other problems that are still there.

Who am I? Who am I now? What have I really achieved in my life? Where am I going to? Questions, so many questions, all of which I need to be able to answer before I can truly move on.

At the suggestion of my psychologist, it was decided that some time away from it all, in a place of peace and rest, could be useful.

So here I am now, in an abbey. It’s not something I ever thought I would do, especially as I’m not particularly religious. But many people do it, just to get away from the world for some time, just to find that quiet place amongst all the chaos that is daily life.

When I got here I was unsure. Where do I begin? What am I going to do here? You have to pay to stay, for the basics, as it needs to be affordable. Yet I have never had silence in my life, have never been comfortable with it, so I am also nervous as to how I am going to cope with it.

After sitting still for twenty minutes, whilst pondering all of this, the bell rang to signal five minutes before vespers. I sat and listened to it for a while before deciding that I would get up and go to the church. It felt quite awkward, in a way, what with not being religious, yet at the same time there was still something there that felt otherworldly. I have never seen the like in my life. Such power in the words, the way they sing them with meaning, the sounds mingling and echoing eerily throughout the church. For the first time in a long time, I felt small and humble. Yet also strangely out of place.

At the evening meal, afterwards, I still felt out of place. Luckily I’d picked out some relatively neutral t-shirts, deciding to leave all the heavy metal ones at home. Yet I still have tattoos that show on occasion. I needn’t have worried; no one noticed. Yet I still felt a stranger in a world that belonged to others, not me.

There are some regulars here, people who know the father who is looking after the guests today. It gives me even more of a feeling of being out of place. Yet they are welcoming, non-judging, peaceful people.

As I sit here this evening, it being not long after 7pm, I’m not sure where tomorrow is going to take me. I know I should avoid the internet and social media as much as possible, because that is partly what I need to get away from. Yet, finding something else to do is not that easy. Tomorrow I plan to take a long walk, the start of a long journey into finding myself again once more. It will be like a physical metaphor, “a journey starts with a single step”. Yet tonight, I am alone in the world and my insides are struggling to find a peace with itself. My brain and stomach and heart are all fighting to take first place in the decision making, but they just come clashing together. Maybe that first step actually truly starts this evening, in starting to learn to find and make peace with myself.

Tomorrow morning I have been invited to their morning prayers, as they saw me tonight, which are an hour long instead of just half hour in the evening. The main problem is getting up to be there at 6:45, as I’m not usually a morning person. Yet the rhythm will no doubt do me good.

Tonight is still long, though. I sit here alone, with just my thoughts, and the silence echoes around them.

More Than Just Living

Sometimes I live for living’s sake. Sometimes I carry on without realising what’s truly important. But what is important? The daily grind, housekeeping, the things that have to be done? Or the things that we deep inside truly want to do or be? Of course, we all have responsibilities, but does that mean that we have to shut ourselves off from the things that make us truly feel alive?

Life is complicated. Life is painful. All those emotions that you just shut away because you lost touch with yourself somewhere along the way. The deep emotions, the reminders of who you truly are and what you must be.

True living is allowing yourself to feel all those emotions, positive and negative, and being able to say through that, ‘I know myself and accept who I am.’

But I don’t know myself, because I’ve tried too long to fit in and be something that others have told me I should be. My body has tried to tell me the truth, but I still shut it off, even now at my furthest point. I just didn’t want to be alone, but it made me feel more alone than ever.

It’s time to start listening to myself again.

Spinning & Turning

I've been avoiding writing for a while... Even though I set up this blog to write down my honest thoughts and experiences, sometimes I don't want to. Sometimes I want to hide from myself and not know what's going on in my life. But there comes a time when you have to face up to it, or it'll control you more and hold you down.

Been home 4 days now. After having so many great times, it feels... Empty... Empty to be home. It's like, 'what am I going to do with myself now?' I've played my instruments a crazy amount, which makes me feel somewhat better. But I'm listless, restless, so much emptier than I was... There's always an adjustment phase after returning, always a moment where you have to stop beating yourself up for all the stupid things you've done and said recently and... Just smile at the good times.

See, that's the problem with me - once I start coming down again, all those negative little beasties like to come up and smack me in the face. They try to tell me that someone must be thinking this, because I said or did that, or that someone else will never talk to me again because of another action... It spins around and around and around...

And, meanwhile, in Saneville, that's literally just across the water from the hypnotic Hyperville and directly above Miseryville... There's a part of me watching everything that's going on, trying to rationalise it all, saying that it'll pass, you just have to ride the waves, etc., quite relieved that the gates of Hyperville are quite firmly shut at the moment so at least we won't be getting ourselves into a worse pickle whilst we carry ourselves over this wave... But sometimes even the rational voices in Saneville that try to be positive and bring me around can't stop the screaming that's going on in my head...

I've always hated being intelligent, have always hated being able to rationalise things, know what's going on. Yes, I don't always know what's going on or what I'm doing at the time, which essentially makes it far harder for me, the knowing afterwards what I did and why I did and... I always know afterwards. Always. Always can see everything (which is when the finger pointer comes up as I'm looking at things, and starts saying that someone's looking at me in a specific way because of that stupid thing I did. Yeah). In some ways, at least it can make it easier to bring myself around, to try and control the phases and not let myself get so wound up. Sometimes it works. And when it doesn't... This little brain full of all those rational thoughts knowing what and why I did something, after the fact, after I couldn't control it... It's thinking, 'shit, how the hell are we going to get ourselves out of this one, this time??!' Whilst all the while Miss Negative is prodding and poking and laughing and telling me how stupid I am for doing this that or the other...

It's like one big, boiling soup. A rather unappetising soup at times. And Miss Intelligent and Miss Rational have to work together to find some way out of the boiling, steaming mass. It is actually these two that fear the most, try their best to get us safe out of awkward situations because they fear that they'll be forgotten amongst all the chaos, and if they're ever forgotten all will be lost... But they also know that we could be so much more if we could just keep those little beasties in check a little longer...

Strangely enough, it's actually Hyperville that's the hardest to return from. Once I get excitable, once I get going... Sometimes I don't want to come down, sometimes I don't want to come back. Sometimes I can do so much whilst in that excitable state that I'm left feeling broken once I'm pulled away from it. And also, I don't care - I care far less about what people think of me and just care about being me, being around and interacting with the people I like, doing all I can and having a good time. Nothing else matters. Nothing.

Now, in Miseryville... Everything matters. Everything matters too much. It's lonely. All I want is someone to care, someone to give me a hug, give me a smile, give me a cup of love tea. But the little beasties are saying that they'll never come back, because of all those things I did, because I dared to allow people to see sides of me that I normally hide, because I dared to let go and be myself.

I know there are so many out there that have things harder, have had things harder. I feel guilty at times that I let the beasties run away with me and tell me of my own devastation. I know that my suffering is mostly because of how much I suffered in the past, because it is impossible to change what happened, because I can't be anyone else than a product of that at times, in my reactions, in who I am. I know so well that I'd be a different person without all that, perhaps some of it would be positive, but I don't believe all of it would. But my suffering is shadows of the past that still walk alongside me, whilst others are still genuinely suffering greatly.

But I can't be anyone else but me. I've tried, before, and what happened? I felt worse. I felt fake. So I gave myself my own identity, my own unique identity, because none of us are alike. I wish I could say that if people don't like it then it doesn't matter, but it hurts every single time. And that pain, I feel now, whether it's needed or not. But it's more a fear... It's a fear because of what I've seen before, because of what's happened before, because of what I expect to happen again.

And this thing that I fear most of all? Rejection and being alone.