My head turned to the left. I’m screaming. The chair scraped backwards. I’m on the floor. Contorting. My limbs are doing their own funky version of “should I stay or should I go?” and my brain’s confusion leads my muscles a merry little jig. The shooting stars and meteorite shower cascade from my cortex and then the light fades to grey.
Memory is fighting for position in my brain. The things I desperately want to forget are embedded deeply; the things I pray to remember leave a ghostly imprint but no detail.
Rock-bottom. Once you reach there, the only way is up. I’ve used the expression myself and I think I’ve only just realised what rubbish it is. Any driller will tell you there is no such place. But I suppose it’s a different metaphorical place for everyone. If you keep going through the rock, does that bring you closer to the light? To your source? To your essence?
It’s been a strange day. My legs are itchy. I don’t feel grounded. The anxiety is growing in my chest and the way forward is hidden in the weeds. Yet, there is an undeniable truth to it all. The life I’m playing out right now, is not the right life for me. Today there is a feeling of failure that I can’t quite trace. But, does having a reason for the feelings really matter? Shouldn’t we all just do what we want to do? Do we always have to have a reason? A reason why? A reason why not? I don’t know. I feel trapped between what was instilled in me growing up and the desire to open the cage door and fly free. The disappointment of those who brought me up versus the devastating disappointment of a life half-lived.
Maybe the universe depends on the fact that not everyone does exactly what they want to do, when they want to do it. Would that lead to anarchy? I’m not sure. Right now, this very present, I know that I’ve sat on the sidelines of my own life for fear of upsetting or disappointing those that I neither want to upset or disappoint. But, the feelings in my chest and the energy in my brain is pushing me to acknowledge that I’ve not chosen wisely. Many paths are closed off to me now. There are many more that are open, that can only be forged by courage. They are my paths and it really doesn’t matter if someone has trodden them before or not.
I’m not finding it easy to be a friend right now. I feel guilty about that. I feel guilty because this blog post is all “me, me, me”. (then I remembered it’s my blog and it actually is about me!) I’m finding it incredibly hard to be supportive of others when I’m struggling to be supportive to myself. My mouth is blurting out partially formed uncensored thoughts and my fingers are writing what my mouth is saying. There’s a foggy part of my brain that’s screaming at me to think before I speak, but I just don’t seem to be able to do it. That’s partly how I know that this feeling of unease, anxiety is not going to just get up and go, until I get up and go with it.
So, perceived pain of others versus a tiny death inside me daily. If I found it at all possible to communicate with those people then I would not be here, in this heightened state of anxiety, now. Yet, I tie myself in knots over how I think they will react, rather than have the gumption to have a difficult conversation. Fear. Fear of upsetting others. Which on the face of, there is nothing wrong with; but I’m slowly squeezing the life out of myself.
My health “issues” having been getting used as a reason why certain things in my life can not happen. Not by me though. By others. Having epilepsy is not the reason why I’m struggling to break free from these feelings. Having epilepsy is not a reason to do nothing. There is a jigsaw piece in my hand. I’m turning it every which way without placing it. I know it fits. It’s a tiny piece, but it’s possibilities are endless. Until it’s placed, the rest of the pieces will elude me. Was I playing truant when courage was handed out?? Was I in class but not listening??
By a bizarre quirk, Closer to Fine by the Indigo Girls is playing. I like the lyrics to that song. And they seem to be pertinent to how I’m feeling right now.