Monday, September 27, 2010

Fly far away

Dear God, make me a bird. So I could fly far. Far far away from here. 
 ~ From: Forrest Gump

Ever feel like you want to run away, fly away... to just go somewhere that's not where you are?
I've tried running away many times... and it never works.
When I left my husband, I flew away with a friend to the Vaal River.
Recently, I was willing to give up everything and fly away to Mozambique.
My whole life feels like a marathon sometimes.. and I'm out of breathe.
I'm tired... but I keep going...

I know that I can't keep running away from things.
I'm trying to be brave and face it all. 
But I'm also not running towards anything.
I'm just standing.
Granted, this can be an achievement when all you feel like doing is falling... but still. 
We all want something more, don't we?

I spoke in my last post about my lack of goals.
The thing is.. the only thing I've ever wanted is love.
There's something tragic about a Leo that's not in Love. 
Our hearts are as big as the sun... but we really do need to have people to care about.

I know that love is "there for the taking" and that you have to "give in order to receive".
But, right now.. I just dont wanna. 
I dont want to put myself out there. I dont want to look my best. I dont want to do anything.
I just want to fly... so high. 
And if that means I miss out on love... then so be it.
I want to be unbreakable.
edit: thanks to my friend alice for this tune which makes sense to me. :)

Scar Tissue

I like to pick at scabs.
I wasn't too worried about it and was just going to mention it to move onto the (in my opinion) bigger problem of scratching old emotional wounds but trust the internet to make me feel like it could be a bigger problem.

Ok, so I don't think I'm OCD about it, but some of the things in this article ring true.

Picking scabs is a remarkably self-perpetuating way to act out obsessive-compulsive tendencies that often signal an underlying, often as-yet-undiagnosed mood or anxiety disorder..
Well, I know all about anxiety. I've been feeling more than a little bit anxious about life. Who wouldn't with impending foreclosures, a volatile ex-husband that can strike at any moment, a serious lack of goals, joy and money... and not enough shoes and other pretty things (in no particular order of importance, of course).

Being without money means that you cant get medication for anxiety. And if you try to do the right thing and just "work through it", your work turns out crap which just makes you feel like crap. Feeling crap means that you dont feel like doing anything else, whether that means looking for work or looking for pleasure, leaving you feeling even worse.  Self-perpetuating? Tick!

But wait.. there's more...:

Habitual picking of scabs is classified in the group of psychological disorders associated with self-harm, such as deliberate skin cutting....
Ah well... I know all about self harm. Many MANY moons ago, I would punish myself physically for my perceived "sins". I still do it, from time to time, but in smaller ways these days. I stop eating..  or I eat too much "bad stuff". I sleep to avoid the world.. or I stop sleeping to push myself to exhaustion. I push good and nice people away. I let destructive people in. I hate doing all of these things.. but I do them when I'm in "desperation mode".
the habit..(is) a way to relieve the pent-up frustrations or fears when other ways of dealing with conflict are not effective. Feeling that verbal communications are ineffective leave the scab picker feeling there is no other way to express the emotional turmoil going on inside.
And that's why I'm here, I guess. To express the feelings and fears that I cannot express verbally.  Except I dont really know what I'm feeling or what I should do about me. I feel myself shutting down communication.. and I worry about it... a lot.

As I alluded to in the opening paragraph, I also go back over old emotional wounds. I wonder about impossible questions like "what if?", "why now?", "why me?" and sometimes "why not me?"
I ask the questions.. but get no answers.
I guess I'm just stuck.
Or maybe I'm exactly where I should be... healing.

More on scars from Wikipedia:
Scars are areas of fibrous tissue that replace normal skin (or other tissue) after injury or disease...Thus, scarring is a natural part of the healing process.(edited)
So.. there's a wild idea. Maybe if I just leave these scars alone, they'll actually heal and I'll be able to finally move on. I'm still not sure how I should do this... but I'm going to try. The alternative is just not a pretty sight.

And now for the real reason behind this post: Cue the Red Hot Chilli Peppers.

Monday, September 6, 2010

A cry, a smile, a dance

I stumbled onto this old post and a poem that I posted more than a year ago... (before everything!):

The Guest House
This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they're a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.

Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.

By Rumi, Translation by Coleman Barks

I'll be honest... I've been having some pretty dark thoughts recently. It was a combination of some very depressing things... but basically I lost all hope of ever getting somewhere. 
I feel like I'm constantly banging my head against a mountain... and I got tired of fighting.
I gave up on life.

And then... I dont know what it was... the quiet confidence of friends saying without words "I believe in you", the fact that the sun was determined to shine no matter how long I slept and hid behind closed curtains, or the fact that I quickly ran out of DVD's to watch after my three days in bed. *chuckle* (But seriously.. I need more movies, guys. Hook me up!)

I don't know what it was... but today I decided to step outside. I was prepared to run back into my coccoon... but I didn't. I talked with friends, I smiled... I even laughed and danced a little. Oh, I did cry as well, of course... but what's life without a cry, a smile.. a dance. (cue Judith Sephuma.)

So... these last couple of dark days have been cleared out.
There will be others... and I will greet them with as much love as I can next time.
I have a bit of hope back and I am ready.
Bring it on.