Scents and sensory perceptions and sounds brought so many memories to mind. It was one recollection after another, barreling in like a dam that was too weak, and broke from pressure. Summer days and sounds of a child’s laughter, swirling with the feel of fresh air gently tiptoeing in from open windows, the smells of jasmine and fresh laundry dancing around lightheartedly, and the sky filled with soft shades of white and blue.
It was as if the past was right in front of me. Seeing things that had once occurred, yet will happen never again. A painful reminder that the one who no longer is, will never again be with me. Feeling a sense of distant fondness with the fresh closeness of a broken heart. Memories that will forever be rooted within.
It was a day of melancholy and nostalgia.
Wednesday 22 August 2012
Wednesday 15 August 2012
Swimming in Sadness; And Other Random Thoughts
Being able to feel things so deeply can be a wonderful thing; yet, it can also be the result of many sleepless, restless nights. Unfortunately, when it comes to grief, I don’t see being able to feel it to such an extreme as a good thing. My heart will forever be broken by her now permanent absence in my life.
There’s this sadness that is swimming around within me. It’s threatening to drown me on a daily basis. Depression may be a state of mind, but it’s also an emotional state. The best way I can describe it is like this: it can either be a permanent sinking feeling – a pit of sorts – in your stomach, or it can be as if a heavy weight is placed upon your heart. Sometimes, it’s even both, as if this invisible line of twine is connecting the two. Experiencing both at once is worse than experiencing one or the other singularly at a time.
It’s different this time. Those three years that it was with me was intensely a spiritual aspect, on a very large scale. This time, I suppose it’s more of a cause of both intense grief, mixed with crazy emotions; each having their own colour, and each scribbling their own messy pictures of tangled yarn on the white paper that is my soul.
Needing ten hours of sleep is bad enough when I’m not dealing with internal chaos; but when dealing with a mixture of so many things, ten hours doesn’t even begin to be close to what I need. How am I to explain that to my parents though? Their insistence that I get up in the morning is bad enough, but to try and explain something they aren’t able to understand (due to lack of experience) is even worse.
Can you really be free from something if you still secretly wish it was currently in your life? Maybe, but I don’t think so. So then, does that mean I was not truly free? Or was I free, but when the desire for it to be there mean that I am not as close to Jesus as I should be? For by being close to Him, it means desiring Him above all else – especially that of a past which no longer has me bound.
I know that by returning to this, and taking matters into my own hands, that I’m not entrusting it all to Jesus. Which is wrong. So why am I afraid to just release it all to Him? Perhaps because of the so many recent occurrences of feeling out of control, I need something to do in order to make me feel calm and secure. Of course, this isn’t the best way, but it is what I know.
And how do I explain it to people who have only recently come to my acquaintance? Those who have known me for years and have seen the things I’ve written or heard the things I’ve said or even watched the actions that I put forth, know and understand to a certain extent the things that I say. But those who haven’t known me for long, may not be able to understand how to take it. I’m not even sure if I would be able to actually explain things to them.
You would think that I would have known better than to return to something that can be so captivating and tormenting all at once. And I did know better. But I still chose to ignore rational thinking, logic, and hindsight (as well as that still, small voice), and charged right on ahead – returning to the old way when emotions and stress and lack of control became too much.
There’s no way I can explain any of this to those who are in authority over me. I hold my privacy very dear in the first place. Talking about emotions of this kind isn’t something that I do often (much less like to do). Take that, plus not being able to explain to them the deepness of these emotions, the brokenness of my heart, and the return of the past, and you’ve got one big mess. Because these things just can’t be explained.
I feel trapped. I don’t know what to do. I wish I could just travel for a bit, get out of town (preferably state), and then come back with that crisp, fresh perspective that always seems to greet me at home after I’ve been gone. But not being able to go, having no way of getting out, no place to actually go, and no money to get there has made things rather difficult. I’ve been here too long without leaving for a small break. And when a person is in one place (and a difficult one at that) for so long, it’s of little wonder as to why tension keeps building up.
Many more topics have yet to be processed and recorded. This one is filled with cryptic ramblings that most people who read will not understand. And that’s okay. It’s more for myself than any one, but to the ones it’s for, you know me well enough to understand my references.
A later time will uncover more subjects.
There’s this sadness that is swimming around within me. It’s threatening to drown me on a daily basis. Depression may be a state of mind, but it’s also an emotional state. The best way I can describe it is like this: it can either be a permanent sinking feeling – a pit of sorts – in your stomach, or it can be as if a heavy weight is placed upon your heart. Sometimes, it’s even both, as if this invisible line of twine is connecting the two. Experiencing both at once is worse than experiencing one or the other singularly at a time.
It’s different this time. Those three years that it was with me was intensely a spiritual aspect, on a very large scale. This time, I suppose it’s more of a cause of both intense grief, mixed with crazy emotions; each having their own colour, and each scribbling their own messy pictures of tangled yarn on the white paper that is my soul.
Needing ten hours of sleep is bad enough when I’m not dealing with internal chaos; but when dealing with a mixture of so many things, ten hours doesn’t even begin to be close to what I need. How am I to explain that to my parents though? Their insistence that I get up in the morning is bad enough, but to try and explain something they aren’t able to understand (due to lack of experience) is even worse.
Can you really be free from something if you still secretly wish it was currently in your life? Maybe, but I don’t think so. So then, does that mean I was not truly free? Or was I free, but when the desire for it to be there mean that I am not as close to Jesus as I should be? For by being close to Him, it means desiring Him above all else – especially that of a past which no longer has me bound.
I know that by returning to this, and taking matters into my own hands, that I’m not entrusting it all to Jesus. Which is wrong. So why am I afraid to just release it all to Him? Perhaps because of the so many recent occurrences of feeling out of control, I need something to do in order to make me feel calm and secure. Of course, this isn’t the best way, but it is what I know.
And how do I explain it to people who have only recently come to my acquaintance? Those who have known me for years and have seen the things I’ve written or heard the things I’ve said or even watched the actions that I put forth, know and understand to a certain extent the things that I say. But those who haven’t known me for long, may not be able to understand how to take it. I’m not even sure if I would be able to actually explain things to them.
You would think that I would have known better than to return to something that can be so captivating and tormenting all at once. And I did know better. But I still chose to ignore rational thinking, logic, and hindsight (as well as that still, small voice), and charged right on ahead – returning to the old way when emotions and stress and lack of control became too much.
There’s no way I can explain any of this to those who are in authority over me. I hold my privacy very dear in the first place. Talking about emotions of this kind isn’t something that I do often (much less like to do). Take that, plus not being able to explain to them the deepness of these emotions, the brokenness of my heart, and the return of the past, and you’ve got one big mess. Because these things just can’t be explained.
I feel trapped. I don’t know what to do. I wish I could just travel for a bit, get out of town (preferably state), and then come back with that crisp, fresh perspective that always seems to greet me at home after I’ve been gone. But not being able to go, having no way of getting out, no place to actually go, and no money to get there has made things rather difficult. I’ve been here too long without leaving for a small break. And when a person is in one place (and a difficult one at that) for so long, it’s of little wonder as to why tension keeps building up.
Many more topics have yet to be processed and recorded. This one is filled with cryptic ramblings that most people who read will not understand. And that’s okay. It’s more for myself than any one, but to the ones it’s for, you know me well enough to understand my references.
A later time will uncover more subjects.
Sunday 5 August 2012
Late Night Thoughts
I’ve been in this place before. Having these distinct marks on my body, and wanting someone to see them. Not just anyone, mind you. Usually I have a specific person in mind. But I’ve realized, that maybe it’s not necessarily wanting an individual that I’ve found myself attracted to, to see. I suppose it’s more just wanting someone to grab my arm, see these cuts, look me in the eyes, and then draw me into a hug; not speaking a word, but at the same time, saying everything through that one action.
I feel like Connie Kendall. “I guess I just expect too much out of these moments.” Not once can I recall in my life that a specific scenario that I’ve imagined in my mind, has played out exactly as I envisioned it. Life never was, nor will it ever be a movie. Things to not happen in the manner in which I directly them internally. I know that I cannot expect others to understand or care…and I haven’t expected that for years. I’ve learned that it is best to keep silent and not speak of it. I don’t want pity. I never have. Perhaps, though, I have occasionally yearned for genuine sympathy.
I do not do this for attention. I never have. I do admit it is an easy escape. But what does it matter? Nothing else has worked. I suppose that goes to show that I’m not letting Jesus control things or fix what is broken. Yes, this does mean that I’m taking things into my own hands…but at this point, I feel as if I must. What other way is there? Presently, I feel as though this great heaviness upon my heart shall never be lifted. Therefore, a distraction is necessary…vital, even. But to what avail? Shall I give in once more to these demons that capture me with just one kiss of a sharp edge? And that one time shall lead to another, and then another, until freedom will look bleak, as it did before.
Is there no way to escape this pain?
I feel like Connie Kendall. “I guess I just expect too much out of these moments.” Not once can I recall in my life that a specific scenario that I’ve imagined in my mind, has played out exactly as I envisioned it. Life never was, nor will it ever be a movie. Things to not happen in the manner in which I directly them internally. I know that I cannot expect others to understand or care…and I haven’t expected that for years. I’ve learned that it is best to keep silent and not speak of it. I don’t want pity. I never have. Perhaps, though, I have occasionally yearned for genuine sympathy.
I do not do this for attention. I never have. I do admit it is an easy escape. But what does it matter? Nothing else has worked. I suppose that goes to show that I’m not letting Jesus control things or fix what is broken. Yes, this does mean that I’m taking things into my own hands…but at this point, I feel as if I must. What other way is there? Presently, I feel as though this great heaviness upon my heart shall never be lifted. Therefore, a distraction is necessary…vital, even. But to what avail? Shall I give in once more to these demons that capture me with just one kiss of a sharp edge? And that one time shall lead to another, and then another, until freedom will look bleak, as it did before.
Is there no way to escape this pain?
Saturday 4 August 2012
Fail-safe Mode: Emotional Shutdown & Abounding Maybes
So maybe I don't know how to deal with grief. Maybe I'm sick of emotions. Maybe I'm scared to dream and scared to allow myself to love and be loved. Maybe I don't want to live with this broken heart for the rest of my life [even though it's inevitable]. Maybe after having not cut for over a year, I am back to day one. Maybe I can't handle stress and pressure when it comes from family members. Maybe I'm pushing Jesus away. Maybe I'm pushing everyone away, because I just can't take it anymore.
Despite it all, I will do what must be done. I will break contact with people; no, not to be dramatic or try to gain attention, but because at the moment, it's what's best for me. And for them. I'm not safe to be around, currently. I won't be for a while, I imagine. I just need to sort things (everything) out. My emotions are currently shut down, in fail-safe mode, because I can't handle them. I can't really handle much of anything. Not that I mind. It's nice to be dead to things for a while...
Despite it all, I will do what must be done. I will break contact with people; no, not to be dramatic or try to gain attention, but because at the moment, it's what's best for me. And for them. I'm not safe to be around, currently. I won't be for a while, I imagine. I just need to sort things (everything) out. My emotions are currently shut down, in fail-safe mode, because I can't handle them. I can't really handle much of anything. Not that I mind. It's nice to be dead to things for a while...
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