Some wounds go deep. They burrow down and take root in the mud and mire of life’s little pains.
They are wounds that we glimpse out of the corner of our eye, like a ghost or a shadow.
They are the thing we pretend is not there.
They are the wounds that twist fear in our stomachs, way down in the dark of our being.
Just a flash.
Ooops, there’s a thing I should be looking at, working on.
Abandonment. Resentment. Neglect. Abuse.
These things scar us, and direct us. They take us on a journey whether we look at them or not.
They are in us. They are us.
Sometimes I fall into the trap of not knowing my own mind, after all this time.
I’ve found myself so intertwined and enmeshed in the personalities of others that I think I like what they like. Their friends should be my friends. Their interests should be mine.
And yet I find myself increasingly unsettled. If these people are my friends, why are they not acting like it? Because they don’t know? They don’t know we should be friends?
Why did I convince myself for years that I liked cheesecake? Because someone I admired and wanted to be close to liked cheesecake. Why do I insist on creating worlds that aren’t real? Why must I contrive circumstances that are false and then find myself disappointed when the facade falls away?
Why am I projecting my desires onto people who are only people? Why do I continue on the rollercoaster of expectation, disappointment and acceptance? Like a ride at the fair in a nightmare. I don’t want to get on. I have no choice.
How strange this thing is that I have done.
You have to do things differently, try a different thing, if you want things to change.
When you would normally panic, stay calm. When you would normally crumble, stay firm.
When you feel like running, stand your ground. When you’re sure you’re drowning, swim.
Easy enough to say. The mind is a stubborn creature. It’s hard to change. And when confronted will always do what it knows best. It will always return to type.
But what if the brain’s not really in charge. What if the heart decides?
I am strong. I am smart. I can cope with what’s coming.
It won’t always be perfect. It probably never will be.
But I’m climbing towards the light, stronger, clearer.
And the light is beautiful. And it’s waiting for me, to be me.
The dark waters are pulling me down again.
They pull me down to awareness, they pull me deeper into myself.
And I know I shouldn’t panic. I know I should have faith.
I’ve been strong, I will continue to be strong.
But fear is ingrained. It is learnt and it is taught.
And unlearning is hard.
Fear is the place I go to when challenges arise.
It is the never ending thing I keep returning too.
It is punishment when the punisher has left the building and moved away.
Surrender, because what we resist, persists.
And I don’t want to be in the dark anymore. Not forever.
I’ve been in a bubble.
It’s quiet there and my thoughts come and go.
Not bad. Not good. Just flowing through me.
Without judgement I’ve learnt about fear.
Fear inside me, fear of perfection and my inability to find it, has created a deep dark pit.
It’s a bottomless pit that I’ve filled with self loathing. Everyday, spooning a little more in until the blackness reaches the top.
The hole is so full. And so now I’m spooning that hate out into the world. A little dollop for you. Plop plop plop. I hate myself. Let me show you how hateful I can be.
Everyday I pray for change. I pray I can hold on to the understanding.
I pray I can pull myself out of the depths.
I don’t belong there.
I’ve prayed for help. I’ve asked God to make me strong, asked my spirit guides to show me the way. I’ve beseeched the Universe to open her heart to me – to see me, and make me whole. I’ve stood under countless full moons begging for guidance and release.
There’s not another human being on the planet more open to change and healing than me.
And yet – there never seems to be a reply.
Reminds me of this joke I heard years ago.
John, who was in financial difficulty, walked into a church and started to pray. ”Listen God,” John said. ”I know I haven’t been perfect but I really need to win the lottery. I don’t have a lot of money. Please help me out.” He left the church, a week went by, and he hadn’t won the lottery, so he walked into a synagogue. ”Come on, God,” he said. ”I really need this money. My mom needs surgery and I have bills to pay. Please let me win the lottery.” He left the synagogue, a week went by, and he didn’t win the lottery. So, he went to a mosque and started to pray again. ”You’re starting to disappoint me, God,” he said. ”I’ve prayed and prayed. If you just let me win the lottery, I’ll be a better person. I don’t have to win the jackpot, just enough to get me out of debt. I’ll give some to charity, even. Just let me win the lottery.” John thought this did it, so he got up and walked outside.
The clouds opened up and a booming voice said, ”John, buy a f*cking lottery ticket.”
You have to be willing to do the work.
I have to be willing to do the work, that’s what I’ve learnt.
I can ask for all the help in the galaxy. I can ask someone else to show me the way, but the truth of the matter – the bare bones reality, is that the help I need is already here.
I have everything I need.
I’m not a good friend.
I don’t know how to be.
Sometimes I see acquaintances smiling at me, uncertain.
Like I’m a simpleton, or a fragile egg.
“Do you even want to be here?” “Are we an inconvenience?”
No, that’s not it.
It’s just that I’m just pretty certain you don’t like me.
And I don’t want to waste your time.