All the questions

I have discovered that once you ask yourself the hard questions, then life gets just a little bit…Harder. Yes. There is a reason you avoided the questions that suck and allow the anxiety to engulf you like salty water waves. It’s not all bad though. After the crying, sitting in a corner rocking back and forth and the appointment to the doctor for anxiety medication, that you will cancel the day off. It all starts to get clearer. Yes, I didn’t say easier. When you are dealing with anxiety, things don’t get “easier” they just stop being so hard. I know that sounds stupid but to say it gets easier, feels like saying it stops being an issue and it becomes effortless. And perhaps somethings do. But some things don’t and measuring things as hard or easy, feels like I’m am setting myself up for a failure. So, I say it gets less hard. And one day, it doesn’t feature as an issue at all (fingers crossed). But you have to ask the question. The question of what you really want to do with your life. No, not that panic of “what I am I doing with my life” that comes with tearful bouts of panic attacks when you run into an old friend or in the middle of the night. No, the question where you are forced to be honest. Do I even what this job? Is he really the one? Do I even want to move the other side of the country? What do I want to achieve?
My anxiety has had me living in what-ifs my whole life. But not just worse case what ifs. But the ones that come with regrets and comparisons and probably involved an evening of FB stalking or worse Instagram. The “what if I took that job”. The “what if I wasn’t afraid to talk to him”, or” what if I didn’t spend the month hiding at home and instead went travelling overseas teaching English”. That “what if my life could have been big and brighter”. But see the thing with the anxious mind and this exercise, is I get so caught up in this imaginary possible person I could have been or that I’m might be standing in the way of becoming. But do I even want to teach English? Was he even my type or just a pretty face? And often the answer is no. So, I’m exhausting myself on things I actually wouldn’t care about if not for my compulsive thinking. But on the flip side. If the answer is yes. Then I can work on a next step to achieve that. If I did want to teach English, then what aspect of myself or my anxiety is in my way? How am I going to get over that? And even if it takes two years, at least I have an honest clear direction and I can get help in achieving it. In breaking it down into doable functioning pieces.
I am by no means good at any of this yet. I still get stuck at the questions. But I’m starting to ask them and get through the preceding panic. And that is something. It’s a full mile further than I was before. And some days I backtrack to thoughts of what if. I know I don’t care about my high school crush and am clear on how incompatible we would have been, lol. But in moments of depressive nights or anxious moments, in my single-failed-at-loves-state, I think, “no one would ever love me as much as he could have loved me if only I was braver and cooler and less weird and emo”. Which feels like a really true observation, and at the same time is greatly inaccurate. (yikes I hope). It’s truly unproductive.
So, I am challenging myself to try and ask myself the hard questions and get brave enough to face the answer. For now, the brave question involves what I want to do with my career. Or at least how am I going to get paid. If that’s not anxiety causing I don’t know what is. One thing is for sure, I’m going to need to go back to therapy in order to face. eish.


Perhaps we’re knights

Perhaps it just had to happen this way. The rain. The clouds. The wind hitting against the windows at 2am. As you waited for sleep to fall. Life surprises us sometimes. All that darkness that falls and then suddenly there is the speck of light.

Of course, no one ever sees the darkness or the cartoon cloud that hangs above your head. The misery you apparently caused yourself for so long. It is unseen. You have remained misunderstood. While everyone lived life around you.

 It’s not that anyone was at fault. You can’t blame someone for not reacting to something they can’t see. And you can’t blame yourself for not being able to see that they don’t see what you see. After all, you were too busy spending nights squeezing the rain out your hair. Buckets around you that you couldn’t explain, that the tears kept filling.

Of cause, you held tight to your pain. You tried to convince yourself you weren’t crazy. You ripped your mind out with steak knives at the dinner table to show them:” look! My mind is failing.” You rattled your chest in their ears when the room was silent hoping they would hear the pieces whisper: ”put me back together”.

And you waited for them. The friends. The family. The men who believed they could love you, that they could stay. They couldn’t see the things you saw. The tears you cried. They didn’t wake up to the roaring waves in your mind at night. So, you left them. Or they left you. As you tried to manage your crazy while trying to convince the world of your pain.

And somehow. Someway. You got yourself through it. Through the long nights. The cold days. The days you wondered why you had to even breath.

After all of it. Perhaps it just had to happen this way. That the light would expand, and you would come through it tougher but alone.  So, you can see how beautiful it all made you. How it helps to know you can hold your breath for years and survive it. That they can turn around and not love you and you can survive it. That they may never see the world through your eyes. But you can survive it.

Perhaps when you were a child and prayed to God: “please make me so strong, that I can fight monsters in castles. Why can’t girls be  knights?”, he answered you’re prayers by showing you all the monsters in your head. Gave you a sword and let you fight them yourself. As the sky whispered: “show them how brave you are “.

Perhaps it just had to happen this way. So, you can learn how beautiful it is to rise above it all.

I am doing good.

I don’t quite know what I’m meant to be writing. I have too many questions about life now, that my anticipation for the answer and it’s need to be right, good, and perfect, seems to be preventing me not only from moving from the spot from where I stand, but from saying the things I really want to say. How important is it that you say the right thing? That every decision amounts to something clean and perfect. Why am I so convinced that what I want to do with my life is so wrong?

When someone asks me for advice about love or life, I always say: “do what feels right and natural to you. Do what you know will make YOU happy”. and I watch them smile and light up as they realize what they really want. And even if they go the other direction they feel happy for a second in knowing what they want and how happy will feel. But when I try to follow my own advice I seem to have a reverse reaction. I seem to hit a moment of sadness and annoyances. It’s as if I don’t believe I deserve my own happiness. In away I’m scared to imagine what I want for my future. I can’t seem to figure out how I want it to look. I know what I want. I know who I want. But I can’t seem to put the pieces together without freaking out. 3

But do deserve happiness and abundance. And I do on some level believe this. But my mind has just spent so many years feeling like I lack everything I need. It’s hard to now look at it all and say I’m full of everything I need. That mental change doesn’t just happen overnight. But I’m going to keep working on it.

On a more positive note, I seem to have gotten a hold of the anxiety aspects of my life. This feels good. Not being tied to the role of the victim of my own thoughts. Yes, my mind still throws a spanner in the works of my plans every now and then, but at least I’m no longer freaking out every day. In fact, I haven’t really had a night session tear fest in a while. So, I’m taking the win.

I don’t quite know what I want to tell you in this post. But I just felt like I needed to write it. Maybe just for myself. So, I can have this conversation with me. An outward experience to my inner turmoil. For the first time, I’m feeling good and happy. Things haven’t completely worked themselves out yet and I’m still in the process of life. But I’m not being a false positive about the outcome. I’m just happy and hopeful. I am starting to be clearer about what I want and what I need. This is new for me. For some people courage means jumping off bridges, for other it is saying something to someone, but for me right now, being brave and courageous is facing myself and the truth of who I really want. Its admitting to myself that it is love, that I do want to move and that that is the job I want. And now with that knowledge I can work on the next step of being braving, which will be going after all those things and expressing them to other people. The steps of healing I guess.

I haven’t been posting much of my poetry or any prose on this site lately, but I have been starting to write in journals more which is a big deal for me. I’m constantly going through moments of feeling like I’m no good at writing. So, it blocks creativity I guess, and then I supress emotions and the circle continues. But I’m getting back into the swing of things. I really think I’m starting to feel the process of healing my life coming through now. It’s taken a long time to get here, but I feel like I’m here. On the shore of the ocean of all I am. And healing comes in waves, and I’m beginning to learn how to ride them.  And I’m not going to put pressure on myself to do this perfectly, just going to focus on doing what feels right for me.

It feels good to ramble a bit about how I’m feeling. these pieces make me feel heard, even if it’s just by myself. Often, it’s me who needs to read it the most.

Disillusioned hope

In the moment you hear the words coming out your mouth
A realisation comes over of just how full of shit we all are convincing ourselves that we have a handle on the meaning of life

As if our soothing and deep breathing will save us from the nights we fall asleep  crying and the overwhelming feeling that tomorrow won’t get any better
All the wisdom doesn’t make life easier
We’ve just gotten better at shutting off the parts of ourselves that feel pain
Drugs come in all forms
We injest things to quickly

Testing existance

It is difficult to feel things deeply.
To be constantly connected to everything around you
An over awareness with the outcome of each breath, each move and each decision
Committing your mind to following the path of each route at an intersection.
It’s exhausting to run a marathon of ” what ifs “and possibility.

Being this way is not an active choice
this process happens so quickly,
faster than I can explain.
you think it’s weakness on my part.
you’ve seen it as my flaw.

indecision is something more than a lack of choice.
‘You’ know how to choose the best option
But what if you can convince yourself that there is beauty in each path before you
Or what if there is something a better,

maybe it’s not indecision but fear,
maybe you right, this is weakness.
But O’ how much strength it takes to live in the mind
where every mundane decision feels like a test of your existence

Why aren’t I more than this?

You don’t understand
I came out the womb fighting
My swan song has spanned the length of 25 years
I’ve been armed with words even when the silence choked the meanings out of me
I’ve been protesting my existence with posters all caps
screaming  ” I have to be more than this”
I’ve drafted editorials claiming  ,
I can do more than this!

I’ve always worn weak armor-Heavy
But soft to the blow
the darkness is tougher than me
I can’t even see the night
The moon and stars are covered by the smoke
from the flares, I’m been shooting
No one has been seeing

I came out the womb fighting for air
And now I’m suffocating


Misdirecting the redirection

I can’t calm myself from the thought that i have done life wrong.
That even if i became the smartest person in the room
it would not subtract from the miscalculation i made when counting the days of life or the paths of decisions i made.

A voice keeps telling me that ” life has no rules
There is no direction of right and wrong just a series of choices
we make in the end,
they either make u happy or sad
there is never  a way to know the outcome” ,

But the thought of misdirection still haunts me at night,
Still keeps me up.
I was never really made to live life.