That’s where I’ve been.
Yeah. I was mostly at home, licking my wounds, getting new ones and basically discovering that life is sometimes a really shitty state of mind and state of being and all you have is what you make of all of it.
So I’ve been making something out of myself: trying, succeeding and also failing. Sometimes this craftsmanship-of-self means celebrating getting out of bed and putting my pants on the right way, sometimes it means eating a shit-tone of chocolate until I become sick and other times it means getting up at ungodly hours to start work. I have been known to squeeze all three into one day- frequently and without premeditation.
Work and some little respiteful moments of joy have basically been what I’ve been doing for the past few months. I have pilled up a load of projects in the hopes of escaping, but it only made me more tired and angry. Instead of looking at the real issues and doing my best to face them, I focused on being pissed at the work load and not at the truth.
There is no escaping oneself, though. Not really. And I’m not the sort of person to run from a challenge anyway- at least not for very long. So when my escape methods failed (and failed gloriously they did!), I had no choice but to feel it all: the loss, the disappointment, the hurt, the void, self-loathing, anger, feelings of never being good enough, regrets. All of it, right there and then. In my face.
I tried to clean it all up. Desperately so. I tried to convince myself I can brave through it all. No one would have to notice and it would be as easy as weathering through a light summer’s storm. So I tried. I faked my way through life as best i could and tried to storm the storms, cast the great evil from my head and resume my life as I had before. Courage, Happiness, Joy, Kindness and Gratitude- the pillars of my old life were now buried under the rubble I had no intention or will to clean up. It was just too hard. I couldn’t see how.
Since I was obviously reluctant to stop and smell the proverbial roses, my body made the call for me. I got ill. I hopped from one health problem to the other and it started to get worse and worse. At that point I felt raw from the inside out and from the outside in. I was sleep-deprived, tired and dead sad. There were very few victories and a lot more losses. Pain was something that became acutely mine; both physical and emotional. I grew weaker by the day.
Then came a Saturday in the middle of October. A snapping point occurred with I person I care for greatly.
My foundations collapsed, I collapsed into myself, trying to minimise the damage to my surroundings, knowing full well that only I can fix myself and imploding was better than exploding. What was the point of hurting anyone else?
So I let it hurt. I let it all in. There was nowhere to hide anymore. I shut off.
Sunday wasn’t much better, nor were the next few days. There was nothing about me that felt like a functioning part. I worked, took care of things as well as I could and tried to build walls of paper in order to hide the wreckage- paper was all I could lift. I simply couldn’t handle explaining myself or being on the receiving end of worrying glances, so went into hiding.
But those days when I couldn’t even listen to music with lyrics also gave me perspective. I realised I let it all happen. I let myself fall into a pattern which did not serve me and I made choices which hurt me. I let my self-esteem go and I let myself feel worthless and used. No one else could have done that.
But another realisation also struck: they all came from love. All the agony for anyone and anything I’ve loved and lost came from love. I am obviously not as broken as I thought if I was able to love this entire time. And love I did. I still do.
Hope swells still. I’ve had to build walls and have had to substitute those of paper with those of brick. Just for a little. Just so I can see it all clearer. I’ve had to take a few steps back in order to gain a better vision of where I am. I’ve had to protect my little place of ruin with just a little force. Just so that I can prove to myself that I’m strong enough to begin the rebuild.
Nothing can kill the spark in me. Not a person, not a thing, not a circumstance and not anything. I have so much. I get so much and I am able to give even more.