" . . . Something has changed within me
Something is not the same . . ."
I've been doing a lot of serious thinking about myself, about my life, and why I've been unhappy on a certain level these last couple years. What that's about and how I need to act to dissolve it. It's involved some hard realizations about myself, and some real honest looks at who I've become and what's happened to make me unhappy.
See, I am, overall, delighted with my life. Don't get me wrong. My life is blessed in more ways than I can count. But I still have days tinged with an unnamable sadness. Days when the blue and grey seep in at the edges, and sometimes those colors completely overwhelm me. They drag me down in ways I cannot explain. But its something I will not accept anymore. And I know this reaction I'm having, this dissolution of my normal brightness, if you will, is related to choices I'm making. To things I am doing or not doing. I have to own this, and I am determined to. Which brings me to the serious thinking and evaluating.
And I'm on my way. I'm still searching, still working, but I'm on the right path - I'm getting there. But every once in a while how far I have to go smacks me right across the face. Such was this weekend. We went out to CBGB's for an amazing awesome show. And once there, with our friends, sitting at the bar and chatting I looked around and realized how out of place I felt. How strikingly not okay I felt being there. I became twelve years old on the inside, desperately wanting to go home; change my make-up, change my hair, change my clothes - change me.
I don't know when this happened. When I suddenly felt so insecure with who I am. I don't like it. There was a time in my life when I could go anywhere and feel good. Feel cool enough, good enough, hip enough. Or rather, feel like whatever anyone else thought didn't matter. I was at home in my own skin.
This is what being so sick has taught me. When you fight yourself for so long. When you declare war on yourself - you lose part of yourself. I have spent the last three years dreading the doctor's offices for what they would tell me. Dreading the next round of problems, the next round of diagnosis, the next round of things I could not do like a normal person, the next round of what I came to think of as failure. I was at war with my body, and worse, I was losing.
That struggle, that frame of mind, has cost me much more than a year or two of feeling good. It cost me, in many ways, myself. The me I liked, that felt good and brave and beautiful and daring. I'm trying to find my way back to her. I've rescinded the war declaration. I'm trying to mediate to peace.
And as hard as that is: to relinquish control and accept that some fights I am going to lose, some things I cannot control - I am determined to rise above them. It's not failure anymore to be sick. Its' not my fault and it's not under my control. All I can do is focus all of my energy into being healthy - to raise the white flag and forgive myself for not being as strong I thought I could be. Not let myself be dragged down.
So I will draw, I will paint, I will read, I will learn. I will eat right (as hard as that is). I will move. I will develop strength and get to know myself all over again. I'm ready, finally, to do what it takes. To feel worthy again.
" . . .I'm through with playing by the rules
Of someone else's game
Too late for second-guessing
Too late to go back to sleep
It's time to trust my instincts
Close my eyes: and leap! . . .
I'm through accepting limits
'Cuz someone says they're so
Some things I cannot change
But till I try, I'll never know! . . ."
6 years ago