I started work again, after a short period away. I was, it seemed, in dire need of spiritual and emotional healing. That is, according to the doctor. I went to see her one day with general grumble of joint pain, headaches, a suspicious lump and, what she explained to me as, minor anxiety attacks. Painful suckers.
I didn’t really believe her when she began to tell me what she perceived was ‘wrong’ with me. Bugged me a little… actually a lot. There is nothing ‘wrong’ with any of us technically, we just have concerns that pop up that make day-to-day living difficult or utterly unbearable at times. That’s all. I’m in no way the kind of person who ever thought I could fall into the tangled claws of depression, but when I started to have moments of forgetfulness while driving, finding myself in parts of the city I was not intending to go, I got concerned. And then the shocking pain that rips through your chest at random intervals and the weird pains, headaches. I guess it adds up.
It was when I began to sketch the dark, vivid dreams I was having in the fits between deep sleep and insomnia that I realized I was indeed suffering from the invisible demons of grief. Listening to the doctor’s suggestions, with MUCH trepidation, I swallowed the tiny pill she gave me, left work that very day, fell onto my couch in tears and confusion and slept for almost 36 hours straight.
I cry a lot. Still. But I don’t know why, why it comes and takes over like it does leaving me exhausted, disordered and frightened.
Thing is, I don’t see any of this as abnormal or different. We are all a mess in one way, shape or form. Every human from the youngest to the oldest has their time in the spotlight of pain. I blame it on society and our selfish me me me attitudes. It’s what bugs me the most you know. I love to help others, it heals me to heal them anyway I can… but when I started to forget about me in that process, I gave up. Just gave up.
I sit alone in a quiet house looking for words long-lost to me now and all I can think of is THE loss. The loss of who I am.. I’m not sad about any of the losses on their own, not really. Its life. Right? What I’m sad about are the losses I cannot fix. The losses that don’t get to escape the binds that chain us to this place. I see pain in people, anguish, misunderstandings, sadness, sickness, loss, anger even rage. I sense it, I feel it, it weights heavy on me. According to counsellor it’s what I need to let go of. I need to take care of the monsters under my own bed before I can take on fiends of hell that don’t belong to me? Are they not the same monsters? While I’m taking care of myself, who is taking care of everyone else??
In the meantime…
In the meantime is where I linger now. Swaying between what I am doing and what I’m supposed to be doing. Wavering between what I once was and who I have since invented me to be. It’s a baffling space, as noisy as it is soundless, as forced as it is effortless, as secure as it is as daunting…
It’s me, in a cage, a cage as fragile as a dragonfly’s wing yet I can’t break through. Nor do I want to. I have wings in that cage. I’m free then, even in the spaces in between. Right?
In the meantime.
Luv u KRR