I’m dead inside is a phrase I’ve probably uttered and thought with too great a frequency in recent times. Yeah, sometimes it was for comedic or dramatic effect, but sadly, most of the time, it was what I really believed to be true. I’m not at a point where I can completely let go of this notion, but I can see that it is, maybe, starting to loosen its choke hold.
Somewhere along the way I seem to have lost the elementary ability to discern the difference between a feeling and a thought and herein lies the problem. I taught myself (subconsciously? consciously?) to push everything into the “thought” category. It’s a brilliant defense mechanism, really. Thoughts are far less volatile and far less likely to result in injury. It’s a mechanism of control too. Thoughts can be summoned or banished at will; feelings are not quite so malleable.
Everything has become cerebral for me leaving nothing to the innate.
So where do I go from here? I don’t know. I’m inching forward I suppose. I’m asking the questions I need to ask and getting closer to an answer. I’m getting back to basics, simplifying.
It’s frustrating to try to explain this. People (me too) have difficulty understanding things that, to them, are just completely natural and involuntary. They want to dismiss it, solve it, fix it as though to do so would be so easy. If it were that easy to fix, surely I would have done so myself a long time ago.
But I am feeling hopeful today, as snow descends upon the isle of Manhattan, that maybe, with some help, I can fix myself. That maybe, I’m not completely fucked and irreparably broken, just sort of malfunctioning and in need of repair.
Conversations I’ve had about this as well as those I’ve had with people about their own issues/ struggles have really been enlightening. I am learning so much. About myself, about people. It is fascinating. I am learning patience, compassion, understanding, acceptance. Sometimes no matter how much you want to do something, or how much someone else wants you to, you just CAN’T. Sometimes things that seem so easy to others, for others, are really fucking hard. But this truth shouldn’t be the end of the story it should be the beginning. We can help each other. We just need to stop hiding. It’s so hard: trust. But maybe some are worthy. A few. We need them. We should find them and hold on so tight.
Sometimes I can convince myself that I don't need anyone. What a crock of shit that is.
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2 comments:
I know that, I've been there: usually, forcing yourself to constantly do, or be, what I'm so, so not, but can still by force of will act out, that's usually the driving force.
Usually it comes back down to the word should, things I do coz of should, instead of things I do because of my soul wants me to, because of it makes my soul tremor, it stimulates the blood-flow, it makes me feel alive: happy, yes, and sad, grief & despair alongside elation & joy. life in color is a balance of these things, and if you try to have too much of one, if you start blocking out the other, then before you know it everything turns grey
and every second thought in your head is, I am empty. I want to die. If I open my skin, will I find something inside?
Trust me, I've been there.
Also, prozac won't help.
Instead try turning your world completely upside down, so that you'll have to scramble to find a place to stand again, and feel exhilarated and terrified and thrilled and proud of yourself. That's how I fixed MYSELF, anyway.
I've no idea how you grew so wise in only 18 years. Things I do cus of "should," oh that would be a long list. You are so right about everything here. Life in color is a balance... god, that was so well put.
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