2. I'm still trying to control the situation, and I can tell, because I keep shrugging off suggestions from people around me. I hear people say "Sanity is my higher power." "Sobriety is my higher power." "Rationality is my higher power." "The people in these rooms are my higher power." Well, here's the problem I'm having: I once said "I must be God, some form of God, because, every event in my life, originated from a thought or a desire I've had. I don't remember creating the universe, so, I'm not taking credit for that. But I felt a desire to do _____, and then, I did ______. Did I start my own life? I honestly don't know the answer to that question. Have I caused much of my own happiness? And misery? Yes, yes. Have I said 'I want this' and gotten it? Yes. Maybe this is just life, just being human. Maybe being human is something more than we think. Do you see the problem here? Where is the floor upon which I rest my feet? There is none. The only things that ground me lately are the prayer 'Your will, not mine', and a tiny, weighted statue of a Hindu monk, in Lotus position, holding a cup of water in his hands, his eyes closed. It's heavy. And I carry it around because it's my totem, like from Inception. The weight of it, reminds me to keep my feet on the ground. But it also reminds me that if I'm not able to go through the particular doorway that I had thought I could, then, there's still good reasons to continue down this road, of trying to maybe not make sense of it all, but, at least, to get out of my own way. I don't know anymore. I'm in a sandstorm of my thoughts and beliefs and they're all blinding me, and one prayer and one little statue - I'm apparently now an idolator, too - are what are grounding me to Earth, like a wire.
3. As I'm writing the paragraph above, a woman calls my work and her name is spelled "Jain", which, I find interesting, and which I know is a form of Hinduism. I look up Jainism on Wikipedia: Jainism is a form of Hinduism that opposes violence. I read further: "According to Advaita Vedanta, the attainment of liberation coincides with the the realization of the Atman (one's personal soul) that it is identical with the Brahman, the source of all spiritual and phenomenal existence." Hm. / see what I mean?
4. I don't know if focusing, or not focusing, brings something to fruition. And I can't help but to think of it, all. the. time. I try to get it out of my head, and I can't. You're in there, whether I like it or not. And mostly it's guilt, but it's also a lot of memories.... but it's fading. There's no you, to reiterate yourself to me, and, I hate that. I search for you, and I cannot find you, and my world is very, very dry, and I've stopped looking in what I know are empty wells, trying to find the water that I thought you were. This feels like a curse.
5. The truth is, even if you came back, it wouldn't matter. I have no self-respect. Literally, none. I laid aside every single one of my standards by the end. There was no barometer by which to even calculate meaning, between you and I. Not at the beginning, and absolutely not at the end. The only thing that I can count for truth are, were, my motivations, about which I came clean, and which, I now regret sending you. Why? Because you didn't ask.
6. The truth is, even if you came back, it wouldn't matter, because I don't know what health looks like. I don't know what a normal life, or a normal relationship, with health, with love, with communication - i.e., talking, in bed, at night - with boundaries, looks like. I don't. This is why I am, or someone else is, always frustrated, and whoever isn't, is clearly taking advantage, or being taken advantage of, by the other.
7. The truth is, family doesn't leave. And if they do, you can tell that they're family, because even when they're away, they're always right there.
8. The truth is, I have never, literally, never known what I was doing - I only acted like I did. I saw people in life, or on tv, going to stores and kissing faces and reading books and laying down silverware, and I imitated it, without having any knowledge of the meaning, or the content, or the motivation behind it. It was like trampling through a movie set and thinking what I did had any impact, at all. If I did know what I was doing, that has surely been turned upside down and inside out. If you think I'm being dramatic, a) fuck you, and b) find a way inside my head, and you'll be begging for a gun.
9. I was right about how I saw the movie. If I keep reaching out to you, all I'm doing is standing there, staring at my crushed, amputated arm, crying over the fact that I had to cut it off, crying over the fact that I wish it were still on my body, crying over the fact that the rock had ever crushed it, begging it to come back, pleading with it, trying to reason with it, trying to distort reality just to convince it to move, as if it could be convinced, as if it could be moved. All this trying, and crying, when I was the one to cut it off. I didn't know the tendons I was capable of snapping. You can't reason with a rock, you can't out-argue a rock. It operates on nothing except it's own gravity. Well, me and the rock? We fell together. In a sense, we both chose to get stuck. Instead of crying over the fact that I freed myself, what I need to be doing, is thanking fucking God that I had the balls to cut myself free, and then to be cut free, because at this point, it doesn't matter how it happened, just that it happened. What I need to be doing, instead of standing there, begging the rock to move itself out of its very settled position between a wall and my amputated hand, is to get the fuck out of here as soon as I can and remember that I was lucky enough to have the luxury of cutting off a limb to save my life.
10. I was right about how I saw the movie. There's a reality that I'm going to bring to life, and every. single. thing. I can see, for miles, for years ahead, in every single direction, no matter how much I think I could outsmart it, everything in life says that there's no fucking way that what's inside my heart, what I am seeing with a different set of eyes, could ever, ever come to pass. Reality is that there is a prison, and I am inside that prison, and I've got to be both the attorney fighting that sentence, and the convict dutifully carrying out this sentence, until I learn to not only believe in my innocence, but to be smart enough, savvy enough, educated enough, and determined enough to either fight my way out, or to break my way out.
11. They should have let me date as a kid. Sex, love, hormones, drugs, all of it is simply as prevalent as air. Any parent who thinks otherwise is living in a fucking fantasy world. If they had let me date, let me have boys around when I was young, this wouldn't have happened. I wouldn't be writing this, right now. By trying to protect, they were hurting. I'd be doing something incredibly different and you probably wouldn't know who I am, and my focus would be on so, so much else. But I am here, because things went the way they did. Because I wasn't taught, because people were afraid, and thought it better to deny the inevitable, i.e., reality, than to invite it in, learn about it, model a behavior towards it, show the love and understanding of it, decrease the fear of it, increase the education of it, and thus, establish the power OVER it, so that it wouldn't have overpowered ME. Because I wasn't taught. I was totally, unashamedly, unprotected. They may as well have thrown me to the fucking wolves. For that, everyone before me, before them, I suppose, is to blame. But that doesn't do shit for my situation. So what do I have to do? I have to be parent, child, and adult processing all this, to myself. I deserve the fucking Nobel for this shit. And yes, fuck you, I am going to take a self-righteous attitude about it. But I'm going to do it. Fuck you and fuck me if either of us thinks that I can't change. I'm not here to prove either of us right.
12. The dog days are over, and if they're not, I'm not stopping until they're fucking chased away with fire and knives.
13. Give me truth or give me death.
14. I know exactly how I lost my conscience, and I know exactly why this led to me losing my mind. I know that I'm not out of the woods yet. But bit by bit, row by row, .....
15. I never wanted them, I never wanted it. When you came along, these ideas wrapped themselves around me so slowly, so gracefully, I didn't even notice. And then when I did notice, I burned it all down. Why? Because of everything above this line on this page. I felt a pang in my stomach a few minutes ago and I imagined it was you reading this, and taking it personally, and being hurt by it, by me, again. I don't know what's more sad - that you were hurt by me, and I could feel it, or that I imagined this, and you haven't even read this, at all.
16. If I can't find purpose enough in myself, and I destroyed the chance of finding purpose in you, then I find purpose in those who don't yet exist.
"It's a dull Knife but still a knife" is the one writing that hit the closest to home for me yet!
ReplyDeleteI was in possibly a very similar state of mind some years back. All of a sudden nothing I did or thought was my own. My walk was a copy of someone else’s walk. My hand gestures, my facial expressions, definitely the words I used, the way I had bit my lower lip when I was really attracted someone, where stolen right from the source(I believed). I crashed and burned with no longer believing in my foundation. I crumbled to the ground grasping the fact that I have nothing, and all has been a lie! Who was I?
Soon my mother became my target of blame. Why did you help me by preventing me, when I needed to learn the way I needed learn my life’s lessons? I felt like I was in Germany during WW2 and the Nazis were creating their own propaganda to suite their twisted needs. Mother, how dare you spare me from the pain of the real world where I need to live and survive in!
I think I now understand what you mean about being god. I've put together different things to create my own unique world different from all others. I must have power to build this world of existence alongside of many others. Only after I dream it, can I make it into a reality.
You asked why relationships fail.. I replied there is always one that wants more, or trust becomes compromised. Here you write that one is clearly taking advantage of the other. One must take a back seat, but for how long is the question? How many times can one Bridge a gap in the relationship? Can one give over and over with no return on investment? If I'm truly happy inside then why do I need a return?
Thanks Jessica!!
H