I wrote up all my feelings and thoughts while doing two-and-a-half hours of yoga but somehow I have stared at this blank page for over an hour and not been able to write a single word. Here goes it:
I wanted to physically represent the peak or I mean the trough of my loneliness today. In an attempt to open myself up to forgive myself, I allowed myself to put it on. That was the beginning of my day. I thought, you are not that bad. It still fits you. And I did not foresee how quickly it would get re-incorporated into my day. The way I always reach for my neck when I am thinking, I blow it out of my face while doing yoga, or I lightly touch to feel if it is still there, or sporadically I look down to see which face is on top and which is on the bottom are all too familiar actions that are binding in its symbolic way. I am desperate for symbols these days. When I took it off I let go. I was so convinced that's what I wanted. But today I am on my way to forgive myself so I put it back on even if I am made to give it up in the future.
These days I can't stop thinking about the future. I am imaging my life, time and space continuum on the autobahn. My past is coming with such high velocity it seems as though I have no control over the present and the future. My past is deciding my future. If I don't like the present scenery, can I take a turn somewhere? Can I pick a new route? Will I make more of a mess? I think that as long as I hit the breaks first and not make the most abrupt turn I can change my route. I can change the direction my life is going.
Unfortunately, I have no control over other people's decisions and life choices. I created this rift and now I feel ever so alone. I am so sad and my heart is so badly aching that I still cannot fathom the idea that it can be possible to live with this. Yet, I have put myself in this exact spot multiple times. I have felt this horrible more than once. How am I in the same exact place? Maybe, just maybe I got stuck on a circle; gotta find the main road.
Aaahhh, I haven't written in ages that this feels like a bunch of scattered thoughts that have no cohesion.
Wednesday, September 18, 2013
Friday, August 07, 2009
A little advice from a friend
Hmm, friends...
Before I write about my recovery, I have been pondering the word "friend". Who are these friends we talk about? What purpose do they serve? Do they serve a purpose at all? I don't know. Unable to answer any of the previous questions nor pin point my friends, tell you their names, or tell you anything about them at all, boggles my mind. I guess they are the people I hang out with but do they matter? If something were to happen to them, would I, more than a year (at most I'd say) worry or think about them. While they were in the hospital or recovering, would I give a shit. It's not like it's me who is going through the pain, agony, depression, whatever it may be. I guess deep down inside, I would feel as if I do every day and live as I do like I did the day before and the one before that.
I strove and continue to strive to be so nice to every single person I know and meet. I am the nice girl at least that's how everyone refers to me as. I guess it was the way I was brought up. I read a book a while back that relates to my upbringing, the protagonist's caretaker would say, "if what you gonna say ain't nice, don't say it all". So, I have kept rude comments that come to my mind to myself for 21 years, then I realized the so called rude comments were not rude at all, they were to protect my identity, my authority, my belongings, myself from being taken advantage of. Why am I so nice? Because I keep quite in a situation a normal person would respond negatively towards. So people tell me I am nice because I let them walk all over me. I am 21 years old and I do not remember a single moment in my whole life where I stood up for myself, where I had enough self respect to say something whatever it may be rude or nice, I failed to protect me, the most important person in my life; me I always put second in the list of importance.
So now, in recovery, I am even closer to identifying my friends. A few there is, I can count with maybe one hand, maybe even less, again, I give people more credit than they deserve. I learned in the past month and confirmed in the past week that people I treated like family were not my family at all, they were not even good friends, they were just acquaintances. I like that term a whole lot better. Those are the people we need in our lives. You can have as many as you like, you don't expect much from them, same goes for them. You are extremely polite to each other. You never get too comfortable around them, you don't share as much with them. There is always a good distance between you and them. There is never too much vulnerability. You are never too exposed.
An acquaintance told me to write more, so one day I can look back at my recovery and learn something from it not relive it. This is what I am learning, as I lay in bed, read my books, wait for my boyfriend to come home, I am learning to take care of me. The only person who can do that is me not my "friends" because they don't give a shit. However, would I, maybe so but maybe not. I hope to look back at this when I am all better, soon enough the time will come, and remember I learned to stand up for myself. I learned to have a little self respect and have me at the top of list of importance.
Before I write about my recovery, I have been pondering the word "friend". Who are these friends we talk about? What purpose do they serve? Do they serve a purpose at all? I don't know. Unable to answer any of the previous questions nor pin point my friends, tell you their names, or tell you anything about them at all, boggles my mind. I guess they are the people I hang out with but do they matter? If something were to happen to them, would I, more than a year (at most I'd say) worry or think about them. While they were in the hospital or recovering, would I give a shit. It's not like it's me who is going through the pain, agony, depression, whatever it may be. I guess deep down inside, I would feel as if I do every day and live as I do like I did the day before and the one before that.
I strove and continue to strive to be so nice to every single person I know and meet. I am the nice girl at least that's how everyone refers to me as. I guess it was the way I was brought up. I read a book a while back that relates to my upbringing, the protagonist's caretaker would say, "if what you gonna say ain't nice, don't say it all". So, I have kept rude comments that come to my mind to myself for 21 years, then I realized the so called rude comments were not rude at all, they were to protect my identity, my authority, my belongings, myself from being taken advantage of. Why am I so nice? Because I keep quite in a situation a normal person would respond negatively towards. So people tell me I am nice because I let them walk all over me. I am 21 years old and I do not remember a single moment in my whole life where I stood up for myself, where I had enough self respect to say something whatever it may be rude or nice, I failed to protect me, the most important person in my life; me I always put second in the list of importance.
So now, in recovery, I am even closer to identifying my friends. A few there is, I can count with maybe one hand, maybe even less, again, I give people more credit than they deserve. I learned in the past month and confirmed in the past week that people I treated like family were not my family at all, they were not even good friends, they were just acquaintances. I like that term a whole lot better. Those are the people we need in our lives. You can have as many as you like, you don't expect much from them, same goes for them. You are extremely polite to each other. You never get too comfortable around them, you don't share as much with them. There is always a good distance between you and them. There is never too much vulnerability. You are never too exposed.
An acquaintance told me to write more, so one day I can look back at my recovery and learn something from it not relive it. This is what I am learning, as I lay in bed, read my books, wait for my boyfriend to come home, I am learning to take care of me. The only person who can do that is me not my "friends" because they don't give a shit. However, would I, maybe so but maybe not. I hope to look back at this when I am all better, soon enough the time will come, and remember I learned to stand up for myself. I learned to have a little self respect and have me at the top of list of importance.
Tuesday, August 04, 2009
physical (not emotional)
The little life experience I have had, I do not recall feeling physical pain. Except on various occasions my broken heart caused uncontrollable throbbing of my insides or the salt from my tears stung my cheeks; oh how it burned to blink with those swollen eyes.
I have never had a broken arm or a leg, never sprained an ankle. Never endured such a recovery where everyday tasks suddenly become difficult and the sick feels less capable.
Last night, I tried sleeping on my left side then my right, thinking that I should do my spine justice by trying to keep my actions even. I woke up at 6:00AM and laid in bed until 11:00AM, on my back. I suddenly gave up. Today, or at least this morning, I am not going to be comfortable. Whatever position I am in, I feel pain. The pain I have never felt before, of having a broken bone not just one but two and getting accustomed to the foreign material I have instead of irregular bone that makes up my spine. Having a crushed T11 and torn ligaments, having faced paralysis, too much for a newbie.
I have never had a broken arm or a leg, never sprained an ankle. Never endured such a recovery where everyday tasks suddenly become difficult and the sick feels less capable.
Last night, I tried sleeping on my left side then my right, thinking that I should do my spine justice by trying to keep my actions even. I woke up at 6:00AM and laid in bed until 11:00AM, on my back. I suddenly gave up. Today, or at least this morning, I am not going to be comfortable. Whatever position I am in, I feel pain. The pain I have never felt before, of having a broken bone not just one but two and getting accustomed to the foreign material I have instead of irregular bone that makes up my spine. Having a crushed T11 and torn ligaments, having faced paralysis, too much for a newbie.
Saturday, May 09, 2009
Exhaustion comes knockin'
Another couple of months have passed and I recently woke up from a haze... I have tired myself out. I don't understand how I can be so capable of loving so much while being terrified and anxious and nervous...
Wednesday, January 07, 2009
Friday, January 02, 2009
Life 101
I type these awful messages onto my phone. Things I would never hear come out of my mouth, never consider saying them to another human being. But then I stop, I erase. I must be in the stage where I am not as sad. I don't feel like crying as much. I am bitter. I am angry. I feel betrayed. I feel like my partner in crime sold me to the FBI. Another life lesson taught well, there are no partners of crime, there are no significant others. You are on your own. The so called relationship that we are all hanging onto so tight, despite all efforts, can be destroyed just with a couple words or a few bad actions. Friends, boyfriends, girlfriends, family members, come and go.
P.S. Happy New Years
P.S. Happy New Years
Monday, December 22, 2008
I noticed today that I haven't changed my profile setting, "about me" section. It's kind of funny because, I am not always sad. But every single post I have is a sad one (all one hundred of them)... because when I'm happy, I want to share that with the one person who makes me so happy, the one person I have loved unconditionally. Now I have once again, no one to turn to; he is gone... but for the first time I don't love anyone and I don't love him. Maybe that's a big fat lie. I want to believe that my big lie one day will come truth and I will not hurt any longer. I will start the New Year with loving the person I can rely on no matter what. She will never stop loving me, respecting me, caring for me.... So I post sad blogs maybe someone reads them and feels for me (by the way, I do not grow up, I have such a juvenile mind).
I have three semesters here. I cannot wait to get out of this town, this state. I want to leave. I want to go so far away, I want to be far from anyone and everyone. I feel so alone in this familiarity. I want my loneliness to be justified. It is very strange. All the people I love are around me and I want nothing to do with them because I am hurting too much. I have created this life for myself and I focused my attention on the wrong person. Now, I have to rebuild my surroundings, give my attention to other people. Start all over with a big chunk of my life missing. Metaphorically speaking, I planted a bad seed, I did not want to watch it die, I tried really hard to make it live despite all my efforts, I got no crop:( I did not deserve this at all. I am just so so so very much scared. I dunno what to do...
I have three semesters here. I cannot wait to get out of this town, this state. I want to leave. I want to go so far away, I want to be far from anyone and everyone. I feel so alone in this familiarity. I want my loneliness to be justified. It is very strange. All the people I love are around me and I want nothing to do with them because I am hurting too much. I have created this life for myself and I focused my attention on the wrong person. Now, I have to rebuild my surroundings, give my attention to other people. Start all over with a big chunk of my life missing. Metaphorically speaking, I planted a bad seed, I did not want to watch it die, I tried really hard to make it live despite all my efforts, I got no crop:( I did not deserve this at all. I am just so so so very much scared. I dunno what to do...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
