Tuesday, 27 August 2013

It's Okay.

It's been a morning of different ruminations... For the past few days, this feeling has been with me, that same shaky, vulnerable feeling and the doors are slamming shut. I've felt it easier not to share again, just grow quiet. I'm wondering whether that is a self protection measure or whether I do grow quiet in order to know the feeling better. To sit with the pain of it, to close and to open to myself. I have grown from where I was, because in as much as I still find myself in avoidant behaviors at times, I do not feel that same need to pick up the stick and minimize it all as- 'you're just over-sensitive.'
I am sensitive to things. And that's okay. Wrong or right, it exists. It's an older part of me that needs healing. It's an experience. It's me.
Self soothing is something that's always been rather unconscious. I've never been awake to the feeling because I've never learnt it, at least not on the surface. The fact is, that I'm only aware now to really self care because I know now- I'm worthy of it. There's still that old part of me that calls even louder now because finally, I'm being heard, by myself.
The worst thing I've done to myself is seek and ask permission to be who I am. And now I know,
I've never needed it. I've started late, but what I need to know, and feel, is to be able to be authentic and autonomous and be okay with it. Casting out the old voices, and know that I've never known- been a stranger to myself. It seems like work for many hands, so to speak, but being gentle with the process and taking it all a step at a time... That's where I'll feel less like I'm curled up again. Because it's okay. That I feel what I feel. It's okay that I don't have answers or understand it, that will come in time. It's okay I haven't quite accepted where I am. I'm not finished yet. It's okay. I'm brand new.
And it's okay that right now I'm not okay. I will be, with time, with nurture and at my own hand.

Friday, 16 August 2013

Life doesn't wait...

'And I can hum a tune
Anytime I choose
And there's no such thing as time.'
~I Wonder, Blind Melon

Here, I've been under the notion for some time that there is no such thing as well- time. And I really believe there isn't. Days here have this fluidity where they shift so slowly it almost feels like the momentum of the earth, deceptive that it's hurtling through space at 365,000 miles
an hour, akin to a black hole feeling... everything moving in slow motion to the point where much of the time it's static. Days here are lazy, filled with bird song and colour. Today has been the most perfect summers day, and I've been taking in the chroma- of everything, the sky, the butterflies that swoop low and make me smile. And I've been looking at how my inner colours, my aura if you will (Glastonbury personified lol) has been changing today. I've been feeling at peace with myself, and what I am. Those days are rare, where the weight of my ego and the insecurities of what I am not, or where I am falling short- don't seem to matter so much. I've been happy in amongst the immersion of hues and music that have filled my day. And then just like clouds blowing over, it hits- a wave of quiet dysphoria and sadness.
I know what it is.
In the moment, it's all so beautiful. It's a fleeting minute where exactly at that time I am present in my life, not in my former tense, not in my future sense. I'm here.
And then somewhere something speaks to me because I am wide open. The vulnerability and sensitivity that has been with me throughout my life, the sadness that everything really isn't alright. Even though in that precise moment I am fine, something in me speaks and says it isn't.
I am not where I want to be. I've failed, I've slumped, I've left things to go under and get right on top of me and I still fear failing. I hurt. I'm pining for everything I don't have, the life I want and everything I'm bereft of. But... What I forget is-
'life does not wait.' 

There is no such thing as time here. And this is what I fear, is that if life stood still then this is forever, like a monument and I've already written my epitaph. This is as good as it gets where I have nothing left and always settle for less.
And yet, there's that magical sense. It's dusk, evening has already settled in and the stars are lighting the sky. Miracles and wonderment lie in them, in the universe. And it exists here on this earth too, in these comparably small lives, where monotony leads with a seemingly binding hand. Anything can happen at any point. Situations are sped forward, and the unexpected is the one thing that is sure in this life.
I've feared change. All these years.. That things might just be so alien that there was nothing left to recognize at all. Until it happened anyway- but things didn't change- I did.
Now and for a while, I feared things staying the same. But just like the change within me, any point marks the end spot here where it's enough and I'm freed.
That's the miracle. I'm alive and at any point life can move. The dysphoria of stasis is only illusionary. And at this point, I'm ready. The excitement of what I can build now brand new... without any limitation. Mistakes and all. Life doesn't wait.

Tuesday, 13 August 2013

Return of the Edit button

I've discovered a problem that has been sat in my peripheral awareness for a little while now. I'm blogging to try and understand why but also to perhaps- maybe exorcise some of it's hold..

It's the edit button. The backspace has become my best friend.. Delete, cancel, click away anything I might say or express. Coupled with the existent restlessness it's a little frustrating, but it might just be that my subconscious is working more above ground than usual. And because of that, the only thing that forms is a distinct odd feeling within my gut, swirling with something between alarm and sadness. Those dormant formations are just fractal images, bits and pieces of memories and unfinished thoughts. They are voiceless and confusing, and it is hard to know where in my conscious growth they fit- so I guess it would stand to reason that much of the process would be hard to understand. I think just becoming accustomed to holding those pieces, and just reminding myself that regardless of whether I understand WHY they exist, but the fact that they exist anyway- is where I might find a little acceptance. Just sitting with not knowing, will give me a little quiet in my mind.

And perhaps the bigger problem with the edit button is the fierce return of my inner critic. The prevalence of 'you can't say that.' or 'don't make waves...be invisible, and don't draw attention.'- those are the main contenders for why I'm having trouble expressing any verbiage at all, to anyone. I'm remembering that wish to just disappear and fly to safety, just be able to live and not afraid to be out in public...but I'm realizing that in disappearing, I've actually made that same fear worse. None of this is really making any sense, but to elaborate a little- I moved back to be safe, and to leave behind harm and a few people that did harm, I moved to get back on my feet. I went quiet not as to alienate everyone that I love, but for the fear of those who I've found since that weren't ever without their own agenda, I was just naive. I wanted to reclaim my privacy. I wanted to reclaim some form of my life on my own terms. But instead I just grew afraid to speak.
This isn't the first time this has happened, but maybe this has cycled back a second time for a reason. Something is holding my mouth shut, and it's own forceful messages are stronger at my mouth and fingertips and in my behaviour than my own sentience at the moment. If I look at what insecurities those messages are signposting towards, I might finally be able to speak again properly.
And this was a first step.