I used to want to feel normal. That’s all I ever wanted. Now I see that my perspective and definition of feeling normal was really just to have a sense of belonging, a right to be here. No explanation needed for why I exist.
I’ve equated the feeling to how babies in their first years of life start to learn how to manipulate and exert their influence onto the outside world. How you can see them growing more and more aware of their own power and joy. To feel “normal” to me meant just that – such alignment with your physical reality and the freedom to know you are capable of bending it and being a part of it. A dance between you as an individual and the larger world around you. That you don’t need to hide or feel hindered.
And I kept seeing that everywhere in others, except in me. I wanted so much to be someone else in order to be free.
But by accessing all the blockages I’ve been knocked with and learning to heal and bring my own inner child through more, I’m beginning to sense the rightness of my being more. And sometimes that’s all you need to start with : just the sensation of having the right to be. Quiet gestation.
So I guess the world normal wasn’t the most adequate word at all. All I wanted was to be so exquisitely blissful in my own inner world and being able to touch the skin of the outer one. Magic within the ordinary.
At some point in our lives, we tend to recreate the traumas or patterns we experienced in childhood. Maybe once, maybe more than once… There’s that cliché but it’s true. We play out all the pain and the longing and the desires we’ve had. This happened to me when I was 13.
I was with a boy who not surprisingly mirrored lots of the same emotional difficulties as me. He was an on and off again runaway/kid who got kicked out, who lived in group homes and was involved in gangs. He dabbled in physical self-harm before he met me and I was already a few months into my own path of cutting before I met him. We met at the perfect conjunction where all of this expedited in me. And I must’ve seemed so crazy now looking back because my head also throbbed with notions of romanticism and emotional fantasies.
Continue reading the relationship I had when I was 13.
I was wondering why, these last couple of days, even when my period and pms symptoms subsided, was I still feeling so lethargic, and unmotivated, and lifeless almost. Then I remembered – I have chronic depression. And it is not something that goes away permanently every time I feel ‘good’ again.
I think sometimes we tend to want to avoid very uncertain or despondent feelings like this and just want to power through with whatever we planned to be on track with, not taking time to rearrange and deal with the unexpected. It never works like this especially if you deal with any mental/emotional health issue. I was being really hard on myself, feeling angry about why I couldn’t just get up and go outside or enjoy the routine I had going this past month. I was trying to override this “fatigue” and finding loopholes to snap out of it. But it doesn’t work that way and it’s never worked that way, so why did I still try ?
Continue reading reminder: depression happens. and the opening it provides does too.
Vulnerability is like drowning, but finding out you can breathe, albeit in a different way. And although some people find this out, it still can be a discomfort to not resurface and not go back again to the kind of air and pressure they were used to all along.
But vulnerability is really submerging all of you, and letting all the masks and layered insulation you’ve had in place slowly loosen and release under water, being carried away because it’s no longer needed.
You don’t experience yourself clearly when all the mirrors you’ve placed around yourself only reflects the small of yourself that you were comfortable being uncomfortable with.
Tenderly living is like the sun’s shine. How it continuously radiates but can never peak back inside at it’s own core to define it. It just lives from it. Breathes from it. Always in touch with it.
And what feels like fire to your lungs at first later becomes what you know is necessary. Because it forces you to stay in between each moment instead of trying to conquer each moment, with swords and armor and vigilance that only tires you out at the end and beginning of each day.
Learn to be submerged. Learn to breathe inconspicuously. Learn to love and be loved in a different way.
if everything is a cycle.
if your emptiness is a cycle.
if the darkness is what you
keep returning back to.
that so is your joy.
so is that love you feel
inside yourself opening up
more and more, little by little.
so is the natural current then
that unceasingly washes you back
to the familiar grounds
of your wildly unrelenting
It’s hard to put all of your self as you are in this moment out there without the muddling of visions of past selves popping in and out, isn’t it ?
There are times , maybe even plenty , where you are enjoying your progress and your strengths and your seeming lack of fragmentation. Then something or someone from your past comes back around to test you , literally on a soul level.
You always wish and hope that the same patterns won’t be played around. That you won’t revert back totally. But maybe that’s just it … we kind of are scared of lack of perfection. We don’t want to admit that every moment will still be imperfect and we get stuck in an all or nothing frame of view.
Continue reading the middle road
it will take you a while
to get used to the warmth
of your own body again.
it will take some restless nights,
fighting sleep until you get used to
being in the dark again.
it will take some gentleness
from your own touch to not close
the gaps of thoughts or desires,
but to let love perfume out of you,
out from your pores, like the dewy
aura of a genie emerging from a lamp.