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.
Showing posts with label endings. Show all posts
Showing posts with label endings. Show all posts
Friday, 3 April 2015
Tuesday, 21 October 2014
Keeping Up Appearances
It’s amazing what we do in order to prove to the world that everything’s OK, that we’re not struggling. So many words that can give a positive impression, without really saying that much:
‘OK’
‘Fine’
‘Good’
‘Not bad’
‘Never better’
All of these words, phrases, so often just used as a simple get-out clause so we don’t have to further explain our inner turmoils and struggles. Just a simple reply, with no explanation, that allows the one asking the question to feel at ease.
Yet, underneath it all, behind that reply there’s a darkness, a swirling tornado of black eating up our insides. There is no way out, we’re trapped, and our only possible salvation is someone who we’re afraid to confide in lest they are scared away by the truth.
The thing is, it’s not that we necessarily don’t want to tell people what’s going on, it’s just that sometimes we’re unable to. Sometimes you just get used to your own sadness, your own company, your own loneliness, and it’s easier to hide behind it and not share what’s going on. Other times you know that if you do tell you will lose a friend or two that could otherwise make you happy when you need it most.
Mental turmoil is a very delicate thing. It’s led me to going absolutely crazy before now and just telling too much, sometimes to the wrong people, flooding people in my desperate need to get it all out of my system. At other times, it’s led me to not leaving my bed, lying awake for several hours in the morning and long into the afternoon just wondering why I still even exist and what the world would do if I just disappeared.
Where is the balance? How is it even possible to find balance amongst all this chaos? Does it require medication, patience, perseverance, resilience, none of which I have? Does it require friends, most of which will get overloaded at some point? Does it require a permanent end?
I’m going to be straight here. I’m not actually suicidal right now, but I know people who are getting to that point and it makes me afraid. I have been at that point myself in the past and I know that at some point there comes a tipping in the balance where it will all get too much again. I do have a lot of strength, but it is not infinite. My life is far from perfect right now and I feel the darkness calling sweetly and seductively with the temptation of a dangerous yet exciting lover that you both love and hate at the same time.
All this makes me realise that there’s one thing I’ve been failing to do of late – living. The truth is, whatever anyone says or does, I’m the one who has the true power over my own life. It’s time to play my last ace, to use the last remnants of my strength to pick myself up and move forward, into the unknown. Make a jump, take a chance, and feel alive once more.
‘OK’
‘Fine’
‘Good’
‘Not bad’
‘Never better’
All of these words, phrases, so often just used as a simple get-out clause so we don’t have to further explain our inner turmoils and struggles. Just a simple reply, with no explanation, that allows the one asking the question to feel at ease.
Yet, underneath it all, behind that reply there’s a darkness, a swirling tornado of black eating up our insides. There is no way out, we’re trapped, and our only possible salvation is someone who we’re afraid to confide in lest they are scared away by the truth.
The thing is, it’s not that we necessarily don’t want to tell people what’s going on, it’s just that sometimes we’re unable to. Sometimes you just get used to your own sadness, your own company, your own loneliness, and it’s easier to hide behind it and not share what’s going on. Other times you know that if you do tell you will lose a friend or two that could otherwise make you happy when you need it most.
Mental turmoil is a very delicate thing. It’s led me to going absolutely crazy before now and just telling too much, sometimes to the wrong people, flooding people in my desperate need to get it all out of my system. At other times, it’s led me to not leaving my bed, lying awake for several hours in the morning and long into the afternoon just wondering why I still even exist and what the world would do if I just disappeared.
Where is the balance? How is it even possible to find balance amongst all this chaos? Does it require medication, patience, perseverance, resilience, none of which I have? Does it require friends, most of which will get overloaded at some point? Does it require a permanent end?
I’m going to be straight here. I’m not actually suicidal right now, but I know people who are getting to that point and it makes me afraid. I have been at that point myself in the past and I know that at some point there comes a tipping in the balance where it will all get too much again. I do have a lot of strength, but it is not infinite. My life is far from perfect right now and I feel the darkness calling sweetly and seductively with the temptation of a dangerous yet exciting lover that you both love and hate at the same time.
All this makes me realise that there’s one thing I’ve been failing to do of late – living. The truth is, whatever anyone says or does, I’m the one who has the true power over my own life. It’s time to play my last ace, to use the last remnants of my strength to pick myself up and move forward, into the unknown. Make a jump, take a chance, and feel alive once more.
Friday, 20 April 2012
Journeys
I've been loathe to update this for a while, partly because of all the things that have happened this year, which all seemed to culminate in the last few days. Because I went on a journey.
The thing about this journey, though, was even though it was predominantely a physical journey, it was also an emotional, self-searching and spiritual one. I had doubts along the way, at just about every single point I kept thinking I should turn back, that I couldn't or shouldn't go through with it. But I did, and despite my fears that of all the things that could have gone wrong, it turned into more than I could have hoped for and gave me some closure on some important aspects of my life.
This journey started on Tuesday evening, going to Brussels to sleep overnight before getting the Eurostar to London bright and early the next morning. I did something I'd never done before - I stayed in a hostel. Now I mostly did it for convenience, as it's so much cheaper than a hotel, sharing a room with people. Of course, I had doubts, safety, security, etc. (especially walking to this place, in the dark, in what looked like it could be a dodgy district!), but... I made it to the place safely, and I met some really fascinating people! There was a German lady who was living in Leuven, and a girl from the US, from Miami, who was travelling Europe to see friends, who kept apologising for everything (I'd fallen down the stairs Tues morning, missed the last step and had a few bruises. She apologised for that as well!). It was very weird getting up at 5:30am the next morning to go off to the station, the walk seeming very surreal. Then the train itself... Leaving behind the new life I'd made for myself to go and visit an old one...
Once were were out the otherside of the tunnel, I looked at the landscape around me, the rolling English hills with a motorway nestled amongst them, the typicalness and beauty that I had missed so much. It was... Strange. Seeing it now, as I was on this journey. Remembering everything I had left behind and everything I had left behind on leaving Belgium as well. The tears were trying to come as I was reaching London, me trying to hold them back. But I did, and managed to smile and sing good morning through customs and then to the lady at the ticket desk, who helped me enormously by giving me an itinery as well as the best tickets possible considering where I needed to be and by what time. And I kept that up all the way, despite the fact that I was so desperate to break, to allow myself to feel what was going on. I listened to all the conversations, familiarity in the language, delighting in the accents... And I just kept moving, trying not to think about what I was actually doing, through train to next train...
And, somehow, I got there. So many memories... The station at the other end, remembering the last time I was there alone, the person I was going to mourn being the one I had been going to meet... Such drama then! Remembering it fondly, knowing it was a part of them I could hold on to. But no one was there for me, then. Just a bus journey alone, to a town I hadn't seen in many years, then walking nervously to a church in the middle of the road (between seperate lanes of traffic) that I'd mostly previously seen as a rather large roundabout thing... I go inside, hoping that I'm at the right location, to see/hear I'd just got there on time, just as the vicar was still giving his welcome speach, and the church was full... So many people, most of whom I didn't know, all there to celebrate the life of one person. And the memories, memories shared, shared memories of tales retold, some of which I'd forgotten, and those new tales I hadn't heard before... It made me not only understand them better, but also others that I'd known close to them, like... The reflections, ripples in the pool... And I saw myself, suddenly, in a new light, who I am, who I was, how I'd seen them... I allowed myself not just to see the sadness of the loss, but also the joy and happiness that had been given to so many people, including myself. As well, at the reception afterwards... Talking to people I'd long left behind, the space between us enabling me to see them in a new light. It was something I'd needed for a long time, and allowed me to gain some peace and put to rest some old and once-painful memories. Including starting to put to rest the more recent ones...
A couple of hours of finally sharing everything I'd been feeling, then fond farewells, how it should have been all those years ago, but suddenly now, at this time of sadness... I knew as I left, back to the train station, that I was essentially closing a chapter in my life that I'd inadvertently left open, perhaps hoping I could go back as if nothing had happened and just continue from where I left off, as if the bad things hadn't been there... How much I'd missed people... But... I'd changed, they'd changed. With new lives, new loves, so many things had changed and I saw it all. But, there was a glimmer of the old that made me smile and left me with as much warmth as sadness, with as much hope as sorrow, but with as many questions as answers. Yet it wasn't just an ending - I knew it was also a new beginning. I would be seeing some of them again, just not as it was before.
The train journey back to London, thinking about everything, finally allowing my tiredness in. I don't know how I managed it, thought I had to just give up and stop... But I got back, got some food, and rather drunkenly walked to a hostel, going straight up to the room and staying there once I was booked in. I was just going to go to sleep after eating, but I stayed up, read a bit, then chatted to some other people there. A French girl that spoke English so well that I thought she was American! An English girl with a German boyfriend who'd been reluctant to learn the language as she didn't have much time, but my story inspired her to try. A Thai girl who'd spent a year in the UK learning English and was very understandable.
I got up early again, with a train back to Brussels at 06:50 - the first one. I hadn't slept much, was so tired, but I still smiled and sung good morning as I went through customs, and chatted to one of the people there who I'd seen the morning before. Just brightening someone's day and thereby brightening mine, a little.
The journey back... Leaving the world I'd once known for one I know now... It was weird as I got into Brussels, watching the buildings... A world that was still foreign to me yet so familiar at the same time, me thinking how ugly the buildings are... I realised at that point that I didn't belong in my old world any more, but neither did I belong to this new world that had started to become familiar to me. I was in between, someone of all worlds...
Then, after leaving the Eurostar and once on the train home, having an argument with a train conductor in Dutch about the details of my ticket (apparently Eurostar tickets don't automatically include "any Belgian station" anymore unless it states that), I knew I was back in the new world, the different sights, the different sounds... And then, off the train, onto a bus, a short walk and I was home...
Home. I dropped everything, and finally let out all the tears that had been waiting. I don't know how I'd held it that long, as the occasional tear had broken through. I had thought so much all the way back and now...
Through all of this, through all I've seen, through all the people. I inspired people, I comforted people, I brightened the day of people... I realised that I'd gained something through giving so much, as well. As well as realising something very important, something that I'd forgotten and at once mentioned to someone else who was grieving pretty much as soon as I got in:
This year has been one of mourning, not just for lost life, but also those that are no longer a part of my life through other means. I wrote the post on 2 January, Today I Cried, and I didn't realise then how significant it would become. But despite the loss, the emptiness that it can cause, I also still have them with me and think about them often. Because they were and are still a part of my life, not just in photos and objects, but deep inside. And they will remain with me, always. They are no longer physically around me, but I can still be inspired by them, the deep imprints they have left on my soul. And it is their memories, all those fond moments, as much as the new friends and new memories, that will keep me moving forward.
The thing about this journey, though, was even though it was predominantely a physical journey, it was also an emotional, self-searching and spiritual one. I had doubts along the way, at just about every single point I kept thinking I should turn back, that I couldn't or shouldn't go through with it. But I did, and despite my fears that of all the things that could have gone wrong, it turned into more than I could have hoped for and gave me some closure on some important aspects of my life.
This journey started on Tuesday evening, going to Brussels to sleep overnight before getting the Eurostar to London bright and early the next morning. I did something I'd never done before - I stayed in a hostel. Now I mostly did it for convenience, as it's so much cheaper than a hotel, sharing a room with people. Of course, I had doubts, safety, security, etc. (especially walking to this place, in the dark, in what looked like it could be a dodgy district!), but... I made it to the place safely, and I met some really fascinating people! There was a German lady who was living in Leuven, and a girl from the US, from Miami, who was travelling Europe to see friends, who kept apologising for everything (I'd fallen down the stairs Tues morning, missed the last step and had a few bruises. She apologised for that as well!). It was very weird getting up at 5:30am the next morning to go off to the station, the walk seeming very surreal. Then the train itself... Leaving behind the new life I'd made for myself to go and visit an old one...
Once were were out the otherside of the tunnel, I looked at the landscape around me, the rolling English hills with a motorway nestled amongst them, the typicalness and beauty that I had missed so much. It was... Strange. Seeing it now, as I was on this journey. Remembering everything I had left behind and everything I had left behind on leaving Belgium as well. The tears were trying to come as I was reaching London, me trying to hold them back. But I did, and managed to smile and sing good morning through customs and then to the lady at the ticket desk, who helped me enormously by giving me an itinery as well as the best tickets possible considering where I needed to be and by what time. And I kept that up all the way, despite the fact that I was so desperate to break, to allow myself to feel what was going on. I listened to all the conversations, familiarity in the language, delighting in the accents... And I just kept moving, trying not to think about what I was actually doing, through train to next train...
And, somehow, I got there. So many memories... The station at the other end, remembering the last time I was there alone, the person I was going to mourn being the one I had been going to meet... Such drama then! Remembering it fondly, knowing it was a part of them I could hold on to. But no one was there for me, then. Just a bus journey alone, to a town I hadn't seen in many years, then walking nervously to a church in the middle of the road (between seperate lanes of traffic) that I'd mostly previously seen as a rather large roundabout thing... I go inside, hoping that I'm at the right location, to see/hear I'd just got there on time, just as the vicar was still giving his welcome speach, and the church was full... So many people, most of whom I didn't know, all there to celebrate the life of one person. And the memories, memories shared, shared memories of tales retold, some of which I'd forgotten, and those new tales I hadn't heard before... It made me not only understand them better, but also others that I'd known close to them, like... The reflections, ripples in the pool... And I saw myself, suddenly, in a new light, who I am, who I was, how I'd seen them... I allowed myself not just to see the sadness of the loss, but also the joy and happiness that had been given to so many people, including myself. As well, at the reception afterwards... Talking to people I'd long left behind, the space between us enabling me to see them in a new light. It was something I'd needed for a long time, and allowed me to gain some peace and put to rest some old and once-painful memories. Including starting to put to rest the more recent ones...
A couple of hours of finally sharing everything I'd been feeling, then fond farewells, how it should have been all those years ago, but suddenly now, at this time of sadness... I knew as I left, back to the train station, that I was essentially closing a chapter in my life that I'd inadvertently left open, perhaps hoping I could go back as if nothing had happened and just continue from where I left off, as if the bad things hadn't been there... How much I'd missed people... But... I'd changed, they'd changed. With new lives, new loves, so many things had changed and I saw it all. But, there was a glimmer of the old that made me smile and left me with as much warmth as sadness, with as much hope as sorrow, but with as many questions as answers. Yet it wasn't just an ending - I knew it was also a new beginning. I would be seeing some of them again, just not as it was before.
The train journey back to London, thinking about everything, finally allowing my tiredness in. I don't know how I managed it, thought I had to just give up and stop... But I got back, got some food, and rather drunkenly walked to a hostel, going straight up to the room and staying there once I was booked in. I was just going to go to sleep after eating, but I stayed up, read a bit, then chatted to some other people there. A French girl that spoke English so well that I thought she was American! An English girl with a German boyfriend who'd been reluctant to learn the language as she didn't have much time, but my story inspired her to try. A Thai girl who'd spent a year in the UK learning English and was very understandable.
I got up early again, with a train back to Brussels at 06:50 - the first one. I hadn't slept much, was so tired, but I still smiled and sung good morning as I went through customs, and chatted to one of the people there who I'd seen the morning before. Just brightening someone's day and thereby brightening mine, a little.
The journey back... Leaving the world I'd once known for one I know now... It was weird as I got into Brussels, watching the buildings... A world that was still foreign to me yet so familiar at the same time, me thinking how ugly the buildings are... I realised at that point that I didn't belong in my old world any more, but neither did I belong to this new world that had started to become familiar to me. I was in between, someone of all worlds...
Then, after leaving the Eurostar and once on the train home, having an argument with a train conductor in Dutch about the details of my ticket (apparently Eurostar tickets don't automatically include "any Belgian station" anymore unless it states that), I knew I was back in the new world, the different sights, the different sounds... And then, off the train, onto a bus, a short walk and I was home...
Home. I dropped everything, and finally let out all the tears that had been waiting. I don't know how I'd held it that long, as the occasional tear had broken through. I had thought so much all the way back and now...
Through all of this, through all I've seen, through all the people. I inspired people, I comforted people, I brightened the day of people... I realised that I'd gained something through giving so much, as well. As well as realising something very important, something that I'd forgotten and at once mentioned to someone else who was grieving pretty much as soon as I got in:
You can't mourn the dead by dying yourself, but only by living and being alive.Despite how tired I was I knew I had to keep up, keep on, keep on moving. And even now, a day later, a day after returning, I know it's likely that I'll come down again, have to deal with all the emotions all over again, but... I try to take the positives out of it all, the inspiration. I could be so much! I know. Life is changing, moving forward, and I have to keep up. I don't want to be lost again. I went to my classes yesterday, despite how exhausted I was. Have taken it a bit easier today, but have still gotten on with things, cooked something, made myself feel better. Because I know that if I stop...
This year has been one of mourning, not just for lost life, but also those that are no longer a part of my life through other means. I wrote the post on 2 January, Today I Cried, and I didn't realise then how significant it would become. But despite the loss, the emptiness that it can cause, I also still have them with me and think about them often. Because they were and are still a part of my life, not just in photos and objects, but deep inside. And they will remain with me, always. They are no longer physically around me, but I can still be inspired by them, the deep imprints they have left on my soul. And it is their memories, all those fond moments, as much as the new friends and new memories, that will keep me moving forward.
Monday, 2 January 2012
Today I Cried
I've been neglecting this place for a while. Partly it's because I hate this time of year, anyway. I find it hard to cope with the dark cold months - getting up when it's so cold outside. Also, when September comes around, I find it quite hard to adjust to getting myself back into the swing of things, believing in myself once more, and trying to get to a new point of self-confidence just as the days are getting unbearably short and the mornings are getting darker. To be honest it would be far easier, for this reason, if schools worked alongside calendar years, beginning as it's getting lighter and ending as it's getting darker, but... Well, studying is my salvation, so I have to make the most of what is there.
The odd part in all this is that I know, as January comes around, I start to change again. After the Christmas break I start to turn myself around and am able to start to refocus. It's quite a bizarre change, as I've heard people that say they find January quite depressing. December, for me, is very depressing, with all the dim darkness and stresses involved there. But January is uplifting, as you're starting to head towards a new beginning.
Some people hate New Years. They see it as being positioned wrongly or pointless. Well, for me, it's almost positioned correctly for the reasons I mentioned above - the lengthening days, more light being flooded into your life. For all I love restful sleeps and used to love staying in bed as long as possible, I've been hating it more and more recently. I still want a restful sleep, but what I need and thrive on more than anything is light. So January, despite it still being quite cold, starts to bring more light into my life, and starts to turn me around into a frame of positive thinking. And that's when the regrets come along...
It almost feels like I'm starting to wake up out of a hibernation. It happened later last year, but it's happening today now for me. Might have been something to do with reading Amanda Palmer's latest blog post today, about her wedding to Neil Gaiman, but... I think it's more than that. I think it's something that's been building up for all that time I've been pushing myself, unwillingly, down into the dark, and watching numbly as my muscles start to wake up and respond again over the past few days. As the frosts of winter lay all around, that I've been trying to wrap myself up against and not feel, I start to embrace it and everything else. It is cold. It hurts.
Today I look around wondering how I've ended up here, writhing in pain inside as I watch the changes around me. Old friends, new friends, gone friends... All who have made an impact in making me who I am, here, now. For all I try to be a good person, I know I can't always be that, that I can be cruel and manipulative when I am desperately in need, that I can be unbearably selfish, the survival instinct winning through as I fight away the darkness, the invisible monsters that only I can seem to see at times. But I try... I try to be honest, to help when I can... But I make mistakes. The worst part is, I don't always know what they are! But I am still trying, trying to be me to the best that I can be anything.
I've said before how much people inspire me. I know the most beautiful and colourful people and I know I wouldn't survive without them. Sometimes I just live off of their energy, that keeps me going through the darker times. Sometimes they don't even seem to realise how much a warm smile at the right time can just keep me going, giving me hope until I can pull myself back from the edge once more. And I know I can inspire many of them, too, how they dance along to my colourful energy as I sing and sashay my way around the dance floor of my life. But then, the darkness... Some of them avoid me, shy away, retreating from the blackness that is enveloping me and threatening to consume everything I come into contact with. Yet others stay, helping to fight away the dark clouds with their blinding light, just a smile, a kiss, a hug, a memory, a warm blanket to help me survive the winter and bring me back to life in the spring.
So today, now, I cry for them. I cry for all those that have touched my life, all those that I adore so much, all those that have kept me going through these dark dark months. And also for all those that have gone, moved on. For you were all and still are a part of my life and help me to survive, so I may live.
The odd part in all this is that I know, as January comes around, I start to change again. After the Christmas break I start to turn myself around and am able to start to refocus. It's quite a bizarre change, as I've heard people that say they find January quite depressing. December, for me, is very depressing, with all the dim darkness and stresses involved there. But January is uplifting, as you're starting to head towards a new beginning.
Some people hate New Years. They see it as being positioned wrongly or pointless. Well, for me, it's almost positioned correctly for the reasons I mentioned above - the lengthening days, more light being flooded into your life. For all I love restful sleeps and used to love staying in bed as long as possible, I've been hating it more and more recently. I still want a restful sleep, but what I need and thrive on more than anything is light. So January, despite it still being quite cold, starts to bring more light into my life, and starts to turn me around into a frame of positive thinking. And that's when the regrets come along...
It almost feels like I'm starting to wake up out of a hibernation. It happened later last year, but it's happening today now for me. Might have been something to do with reading Amanda Palmer's latest blog post today, about her wedding to Neil Gaiman, but... I think it's more than that. I think it's something that's been building up for all that time I've been pushing myself, unwillingly, down into the dark, and watching numbly as my muscles start to wake up and respond again over the past few days. As the frosts of winter lay all around, that I've been trying to wrap myself up against and not feel, I start to embrace it and everything else. It is cold. It hurts.
Today I look around wondering how I've ended up here, writhing in pain inside as I watch the changes around me. Old friends, new friends, gone friends... All who have made an impact in making me who I am, here, now. For all I try to be a good person, I know I can't always be that, that I can be cruel and manipulative when I am desperately in need, that I can be unbearably selfish, the survival instinct winning through as I fight away the darkness, the invisible monsters that only I can seem to see at times. But I try... I try to be honest, to help when I can... But I make mistakes. The worst part is, I don't always know what they are! But I am still trying, trying to be me to the best that I can be anything.
I've said before how much people inspire me. I know the most beautiful and colourful people and I know I wouldn't survive without them. Sometimes I just live off of their energy, that keeps me going through the darker times. Sometimes they don't even seem to realise how much a warm smile at the right time can just keep me going, giving me hope until I can pull myself back from the edge once more. And I know I can inspire many of them, too, how they dance along to my colourful energy as I sing and sashay my way around the dance floor of my life. But then, the darkness... Some of them avoid me, shy away, retreating from the blackness that is enveloping me and threatening to consume everything I come into contact with. Yet others stay, helping to fight away the dark clouds with their blinding light, just a smile, a kiss, a hug, a memory, a warm blanket to help me survive the winter and bring me back to life in the spring.
So today, now, I cry for them. I cry for all those that have touched my life, all those that I adore so much, all those that have kept me going through these dark dark months. And also for all those that have gone, moved on. For you were all and still are a part of my life and help me to survive, so I may live.
Wednesday, 19 October 2011
Unleashing the Lion
Perhaps not the right title for what I'm about to write about (although it could be - depends on how you view it, I guess), but it was the first thing that actually came into my head whilst thinking about it.
I've been reading a lot and thinking a lot about changes, endings, etc. Everything has its time; nothing lasts forever. Even my latest tarot reading was talking about changes coming up, new starts, ending of the old. It has to happen eventually, the one thing that is inevitable in life - death. That goes as much for any kind of relationship, any phase in life, as much as for the physical reality of the ending of life itself. And for all that I can live with minor or major changes (preferably minor, and that goes for songs, too), have always been able to adapt, the one thing that has always scared me (aside from spiders) is death.
You would have thought that, after all I've been through, that death would be the one thing I could accept most easily of all. There have been a couple of times when that has seemed like not just the easiest but the only way out - better to let myself go than to be abandoned again. But, that's just it - the changes that come with the death of anything always leave you feeling like you've been abandoned, like you've done something wrong, that perhaps you weren't the best person you could have been. Why risk going there again, exposing yourself to it again, when it's only going to lead to more pain?
Risks. Every single day I go outside, every time I speak to someone, there's always such a great risk involved. Do they actually like me? Will I be too much for them today? How much can I say before they run away from me, screaming, because I've overdone it again? Will they think that I don't like them, I'm ignoring them, if I hold myself at a distance? Can I trust them? For all that I have calmed down in recent years, the lessons of the past are still there in my mind, so easy for me to see. Means that I mostly hold myself at a distance, try not to get too close. But, then... Then there's someone that's different, unique, not like most people. Someone who understands, even if it's only in a small part, what goes on in my mind at times, how I see the world. Then it's like my foot slips off the brake onto the accelerator, and I go crashing full speed into a wall, only to be left broken and disappointed again. Yes, that's quite it - I unleash the lion and let it ravage my victim until they can't breathe, just because I can't get enough of the glorious vibe that they give me.
Almost everything with me is done with great intensity. I'm miserable to the extreme. I'm happy to the extreme. I hate to the extreme. I love to the extreme. The balance in the middle? My mind just skips over, or barely notices; notices to the extreme at times the little minute details that no one pays any attention to, analyses to the extreme. But that bit right in the middle, between all the extremities? It makes it feel like I'm floating on thin air, suspended temporarily, about to fall into one of many pits that lay below me, without a choice of which one I'll fall into. Wouldn't mind it so much if 95% of them didn't have spikes in! Oh, the pain, again! Why is there always so much pain involved? Haven't I suffered enough already?
So, because of all this craziness, yes - every relationship, no matter on what level, is a great risk for me. Sometimes I am just far too intense for people to cope with, which means that they always run away in the end, or just shut me out. The worst part about this is is that people start off by liking me, because I can be caring, kind, helpful, funny, and the milder side of me that they're exposed to isn't so extreme that it's a problem. A bit quirky, maybe, but nothing that's too much for them to handle. Oh, but then... Then I open up the door of the arena, once I'm comfortable with being around someone, and they see all the dark beasts that are lurking behind the gate...
Some people start shouting at me then, unable to believe that the princess has turned into a monster rather than the other way around. Others slink away, never to be heard from again, avoiding you if you ever see them...
I think, for me, it's easier to deal with those that confront you face to face, who aren't so shy about it. At least then I know what I've done wrong this time, I can deal with it, apologise for it (luckily I am able now to control the urge to continuously apologise forever, eventually apologising for apologising for apologising for... Yeah, you get it), then move on as needed (unlike how I used to hang at the door, calling every now and then, trying to act normal about the situation when I couldn't, really, as I still remember how much it hurt). Yes, it hurts, so much so that I think I'll explode with the amount of pain I feel. But knowing gives me the chance to reflect, to improve, and to try and control myself better next time (not always possible, but I can still try).
My inner cat is so ferocious it could destroy worlds. Or, at least, other people's. Even easier, it destroys mine quite often. It's something I've gotten used to over the years, makes me even more suspicious of people, even more cautious than I've ever been about friendships. Yet I still seem to get it wrong, still can't be anyone but myself, the destroyer. But no matter how much I am aware of the fact that this happens, the fact that nothing lasts forever, I still fear it so greatly and it is something I can never completely accept. I mean, I thought breaking my hand last year was painful. I've had various other painful injuries. But all considering, I can live with physical pain far easier than I can ever live with the mental anguish, the inner pain, where my gut just feels like it's trying to rip itself apart.
It is almost Samhain, the time when the veil between the worlds is at its thinnest, the time when the old world changes, prepares for its sleep, so the new world can wake again with spring. Nothing lasts forever. Everything changes. So, with tears in my eyes, I prepare for the next step. The new beginning.
I've been reading a lot and thinking a lot about changes, endings, etc. Everything has its time; nothing lasts forever. Even my latest tarot reading was talking about changes coming up, new starts, ending of the old. It has to happen eventually, the one thing that is inevitable in life - death. That goes as much for any kind of relationship, any phase in life, as much as for the physical reality of the ending of life itself. And for all that I can live with minor or major changes (preferably minor, and that goes for songs, too), have always been able to adapt, the one thing that has always scared me (aside from spiders) is death.
You would have thought that, after all I've been through, that death would be the one thing I could accept most easily of all. There have been a couple of times when that has seemed like not just the easiest but the only way out - better to let myself go than to be abandoned again. But, that's just it - the changes that come with the death of anything always leave you feeling like you've been abandoned, like you've done something wrong, that perhaps you weren't the best person you could have been. Why risk going there again, exposing yourself to it again, when it's only going to lead to more pain?
Risks. Every single day I go outside, every time I speak to someone, there's always such a great risk involved. Do they actually like me? Will I be too much for them today? How much can I say before they run away from me, screaming, because I've overdone it again? Will they think that I don't like them, I'm ignoring them, if I hold myself at a distance? Can I trust them? For all that I have calmed down in recent years, the lessons of the past are still there in my mind, so easy for me to see. Means that I mostly hold myself at a distance, try not to get too close. But, then... Then there's someone that's different, unique, not like most people. Someone who understands, even if it's only in a small part, what goes on in my mind at times, how I see the world. Then it's like my foot slips off the brake onto the accelerator, and I go crashing full speed into a wall, only to be left broken and disappointed again. Yes, that's quite it - I unleash the lion and let it ravage my victim until they can't breathe, just because I can't get enough of the glorious vibe that they give me.
Almost everything with me is done with great intensity. I'm miserable to the extreme. I'm happy to the extreme. I hate to the extreme. I love to the extreme. The balance in the middle? My mind just skips over, or barely notices; notices to the extreme at times the little minute details that no one pays any attention to, analyses to the extreme. But that bit right in the middle, between all the extremities? It makes it feel like I'm floating on thin air, suspended temporarily, about to fall into one of many pits that lay below me, without a choice of which one I'll fall into. Wouldn't mind it so much if 95% of them didn't have spikes in! Oh, the pain, again! Why is there always so much pain involved? Haven't I suffered enough already?
So, because of all this craziness, yes - every relationship, no matter on what level, is a great risk for me. Sometimes I am just far too intense for people to cope with, which means that they always run away in the end, or just shut me out. The worst part about this is is that people start off by liking me, because I can be caring, kind, helpful, funny, and the milder side of me that they're exposed to isn't so extreme that it's a problem. A bit quirky, maybe, but nothing that's too much for them to handle. Oh, but then... Then I open up the door of the arena, once I'm comfortable with being around someone, and they see all the dark beasts that are lurking behind the gate...
Some people start shouting at me then, unable to believe that the princess has turned into a monster rather than the other way around. Others slink away, never to be heard from again, avoiding you if you ever see them...
I think, for me, it's easier to deal with those that confront you face to face, who aren't so shy about it. At least then I know what I've done wrong this time, I can deal with it, apologise for it (luckily I am able now to control the urge to continuously apologise forever, eventually apologising for apologising for apologising for... Yeah, you get it), then move on as needed (unlike how I used to hang at the door, calling every now and then, trying to act normal about the situation when I couldn't, really, as I still remember how much it hurt). Yes, it hurts, so much so that I think I'll explode with the amount of pain I feel. But knowing gives me the chance to reflect, to improve, and to try and control myself better next time (not always possible, but I can still try).
My inner cat is so ferocious it could destroy worlds. Or, at least, other people's. Even easier, it destroys mine quite often. It's something I've gotten used to over the years, makes me even more suspicious of people, even more cautious than I've ever been about friendships. Yet I still seem to get it wrong, still can't be anyone but myself, the destroyer. But no matter how much I am aware of the fact that this happens, the fact that nothing lasts forever, I still fear it so greatly and it is something I can never completely accept. I mean, I thought breaking my hand last year was painful. I've had various other painful injuries. But all considering, I can live with physical pain far easier than I can ever live with the mental anguish, the inner pain, where my gut just feels like it's trying to rip itself apart.
It is almost Samhain, the time when the veil between the worlds is at its thinnest, the time when the old world changes, prepares for its sleep, so the new world can wake again with spring. Nothing lasts forever. Everything changes. So, with tears in my eyes, I prepare for the next step. The new beginning.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)