Where I've Become
Author's Note: Sometimes I write posts
I hesitate to share because they are personal in a way I don't know how to
expose or explain. They don't speak to a specific struggle or a need for change,
help, or even understanding. They are just a snapshot into a place that
even I can’t articulate completely as it happens around me. So, this is one of those moments that is
vulnerable and honest, and the words seek nothing but a place to be uttered. And as quickly as the moment comes it may pass, but those pinholes of transparency we give our imperfect moments of self-actualization, our times when we knowingly don't have answers may be even more important than all the epiphanies that find us unaware.
My emotional quotient has been on a binge and purge cycle lately
and I’ve been unable to write it all down or even begin to make sense of it. And fuck it, I don’t want to. And it’s not trauma induced, or because
something bad has happened to me… quite the opposite, I’ve been overcome with a
multitude of things… many of them unspeakably beautiful. But changes have happened regardless, changes
that I’m slow to process. So I cut the
strings and detached from the analytics.
And it’s not raw, it’s not even uncomfortable, it’s just too much to
discuss.
And the stigma of
my reaction, my core to extremity shutdown speaks to how I’ve become
conditioned to seeing the world, the lowered expectations I’ve laid out for
what is allowed to be a part of my existence. The words come and disappear at my fingertips
when I settle them onto the keyboard awkwardly.
Instead of creating words, I subdue them. I smother them before they can find the surface. Then, I wait for something to happen knowing
it won’t, thankfully, so I can remain stalled out and numb. And I am numb.
Sometimes, at the
most unexpected of times, a tear comes, like the last resilient bit of hope in
me for something that can be moved out of emotional inertia trickling from the
stone walls but, it is wiped easily away, and quickly forgotten. And the pools of depth are now shallow
puddles, and I’m not praying for rain. I’m
here, in the in-between, in the place where you stand beside your actual self
and realize what’s become of you; not who
but where and where somehow doesn’t
feel like here. It’s somewhere
else. Somewhere I don’t want to figure
out right now.
And for once I like
the stagnation and the belief that feeling nothing, even for a moment, might
let the tender, torn, and swollen parts heal without my watchful eye, without
my own voyeurism and commentary on their origins. In all the affectation, I don’t want to
examine the reasons why, I just want them to absorb into me and once settled just
sort of start moving again.
I guess it stands
to reason that when your physical senses are overwhelmed the overload makes the
ability to express that in words impossible, too close to touch, like being
stuck between two walls closing inward so you don’t go forward or backwards,
even sideways… you just stay where you are, going limp, submitting to the in
between and surrendering to the saturation.
For once not railing, fighting, pushing, or pulling… not even the
gentile acceptance; rather finding the opposite of action. Complete inertia.
Ask nothing. Answer nothing. Just abide in the where I’ve become. And it’s where I will be until I’m not anymore.
I saw this on facebook the other day and it seems appropriate to share with you.
ReplyDeleteI recommend reading the article below. And chin up change is never easy but necessary none the less.
http://www.elephantjournal.com/2011/06/why-being-broken-in-a-pile-on-your-bedroom-floor-is-a-good-idea-julie-jc-peters/
i get it
ReplyDeleteSometimes a state of uneasy stasis is the only place you can be. Finding peace within that is the hard part.
ReplyDeleteWonderful. Sometimes when I read people's writing, yours included, I am impressed with how effortless and smooth it seems. In this instance I am far more impressed with how very much it is the opposite of that. There is tremendous beauty in how hard you clearly had to work to capture and describe "where" you are at. And even more beauty in the inherent ambiguity. Thank you for putting that out there.
ReplyDeleteWell put, beautiful and thanks for sharing!
ReplyDeleteGood stuff. And thanks for the email. It matters to matter when you feel like you don't. You helped me matter today. ~bhj
ReplyDeleteThere is a season for tears, a season for joy.
ReplyDelete