Noise

       Americans are known for their inability to stand silence.  Most have some kind of background noise going on in their everyday lives, such as music, the television, or even constant chatter.  They do this because they're scared of what the silence may bring.  It depends on the individual what exactly it is they don't want to face.  For silence, you see, means no distractions.  It means that we are forced to listen to our own thoughts, and take whatever may come with their onslaught.

       More and more, I have found myself trying to stay distracted.  Constant music playing, watching show after show, having my thoughts occupied by the shallowness of the repetition of a song, or something else that will keep me from thinking too much.  Although, thinking too much is not what I fear.  Thinking itself is what I wish to prevent.

       How is it that she's been gone for over six months, and it's still as painful as it was the first day she left this world?  Why does every single thought I have eventually bring me back to the memory of hearing about her death?  And how can that one memory make me hurt so much?

       I don't go about my days with every little thing triggering a memory of her.  Rather, I'll be thinking about something completely unrelated, and through a series of one thought leading to another, it all ends up back to that day.  It makes me despise being able to remember anything at all.  I'd forget so much, if I could.

       No one ever talks about how painful death is.  They say that we find peace with Jesus, because we know that our loved ones are with Him.  This is true.  I know without a doubt that she is with Him.  But they leave out how painful it is to try and withstand the absence of their presence here on earth.

       My heart feels as though its been torn to shreds, and will never heal.  Sometimes I'll be doing fine, and then in a moment when my mind is not occupied, it comes rushing back at me.  She's gone.  Forever.

       So why do I do this to myself?  Why do I allow myself to keep such a painful memory on the surface of my mind, instead of burying it deep enough to where I won't recall it so often?  I don't know.  Maybe because I feel that the pain is necessary.  As if I need to remind myself that death is real.  And there's no way to escape it.  And that the older I grow, the more I'll see it in my own life.

       Maybe the only way to get used to death, is by surrounding myself with it.  Placing myself in a position where I'm forced to stare it in the eye, and see others go through it constantly...perhaps this will help me to understand better.  How, I don't know, but it seems as if it's the only thing that will help.

       I'm not terrified of growing old.  I welcome it.  It's the fact that I'll see those I love around me, leave me, just as she did.  And having to go through such an ordeal more than just once...I'm not sure if I can handle it. I'm barely holding myself together these days.  The only thing preventing me from going mad with grief, is all the distractions I force upon myself.  Perhaps it is not healthy to keep myself from thinking too deeply about anything, but it is what I need to survive right now.

Fear

I can't even begin to number the times at night when I've laid awake, wishing I could fall asleep, but instead am kept alert by the chaotic noise in my head. Or the times when I've turned out the light and I'm on the verge of falling asleep, when fears begin to overtake my mind, and I'm jolted to reality. Even worse, I have to turn the light back on because the fear is too great.

I don't know what to do. For seven long years, the same fear has more or less haunted me on a consistent basis. There was a time of several months when it seemed to no longer be an issue, but that was a couple of years ago. It has since returned, and recently, grown worse.

There are different kinds of fears. Irrational, those based off of past negative experiences, and the those we have due to our inability to escape what exactly it is we fear. The one which has embedded itself deep within me falls into the very last category.

Among the human population, there are two fears. Death, and public speaking. Did you know that the latter is feared more than the former?

Death is what I fear most. The awful thing about this fear, the very thing that could drive a person mad because of it, is that it is inescapable. People who fear social interaction, heights, germs, etc., have ways of avoiding such things, even if their methods are extreme. But to fear something that will inevitably happen, is a horrific thing.

I don't know why I have this fear. I know I can pinpoint when it first began, but even that doesn't explain its reason. Over and over I've tried to analyse the basis of this issue. But over and over, I have no clue, no leading, no hint as to its cause.

I know what I may do, in accordance with the Bible, so as to expel fear of any kind from my life. I know that if I do what it necessary, than it will be a foolproof form of action. However, I also know - due to past experience - that if I try to fight fear, then it often grows worse. Perhaps it is the case of something getting worse before it gets better, but perhaps not.

I don't want to have a worse case than what already exists as a cause of this fear. Panic attacks; most happen at night. I'll be sound asleep, then wake up suddenly, think 'I am going to die someday,' hyperventilate and feel extreme terror, then fall back asleep a minute later. Should panic attacks occur during the day, I am able to curve them enough so they won't be very bad, but I've no control over them at night.

This is what prevents me from sleeping at night. I am back to the point where I have to wait until I'm so tired I am no longer able to keep my eyes open, before attempting to fall asleep. Any sooner, and the terrors begin to grow.

I'm at a loss. I know things can't (and shouldn't) continue this way. My humanity wants to try to find a rational reason and explanation for all of this; to logically find the cause for this fear. If this were possible, it would help explain things in a clearer manner, and possibly lead to a solution of approaching and dispensing of this fear.

However, even if a solution was attainable by logic, morality tells me it's not the proper way to go about it. The proper way is through being perfected in love (see 1John 4.18). Only then will my life be absent of fear. And I know that. Getting to that point will be very difficult and complicated for me. Which means a great length of time. And honestly, I don't know if I will be able to last that long.

The nights grow longer and darker. At times it seems as if the light will never appear. And I wonder...is it really worth being here? Then in an unexpected moment, His peace washes over me. I am then reminded that I must continue to fight; for even though I've been given this life to live without first being asked, and I'd much rather it wasn't so, there's Something far greater at work. A battle of good and evil is constantly being fought. We each have a part to play, a side to choose. I must make my choice and do all that I can. My time will only last so long, and I mustn't let it go to waste. So help me please, to do all that is right. Not because my head believes it so, but because my heart says it to be so.

Without A Voice

Last night I was placed in a situation of confrontation. We'll skip what it was all about, because that has nothing to do with the purpose of this post. However, the reason why I bring it up, is because when one is placed in a position of conversation, both talking and listening are things which must take place for it to be successful.

While there were many moments of silence in which I was given ample opportunities to speak during this confrontation, I did not speak at all. You may wonder why I did not do so, when given the floor (so to speak), and all attention was on me. I was asking myself the same question. I had the opportunity, the attention, the silence...and yet for the life of me, I could not bring myself to speak.

I'm sure I'm not the only one who has experienced the terror of wanting to speak up, to voice a suggestion, opinion, to say what needs to be said - only to find the words running through your head, but not coming out of your mouth. And the pressure of wanting to speak up just continues to grow until you feel like you're going to explode into a million pieces from the inside out, yet still no words come out. This was happening to me, and I found myself questioning 'Why?'

Why, when I'm around people with whom I am very familiar, do I find myself stuck? It happens (and is more understandable in this regard) when I'm around people that I hardly know; but why with individuals that I've known all my life?

Well, being the person that I am, I found myself analysing the situation, and why I felt the way I did. After a bit of time, I discovered the reason. Past experience.

Not through repetitive occurrences, but times when it's happened often enough, interactions with one or more individual(s) has left me impaired. What I mean, is in the past, there have been times when I've been speaking to someone, only to realise that they either are not listening, don't understand, or have shown disrespect in some form or another. Because of the frustration that I've experienced through these encounters, it keeps me from wanting to repeat the discomfort. And thus, my inability to speak up - despite how much I may want (or need) to - keeps me from saying what I should.

And now here I am, in the early hours of the morning, wracking my brain in trying to think of a way to speak up. Because in this situation, I have to, as it is still unresolved. But how do I go about doing so? I was told that an e-mail is not allowed - and for someone like me, who is able to communicate much more clearly through the written word, this restriction makes things difficult.

It's a difficult thing to have a voice, and yet not find the ability to use it when you should.