'Tis Christmas Day and my mind is wandering, meandering through the snowy fields of my mind. Though I have my bad days still, I seem to have found a strange peace. It is a surreal feeling, this calmness. It is not resignation, nor is it defeat. It is not a powerful peace. It is not a soul swelling peace. It is a soft, floating peace. There is a feeling of being swathed in soft cotton. I am looking at things through a cloud, a film, a treacly river. It's an odd feeling, but not an unpleasant one. I have oft said that the ideals I strive for are tranquility, grace, patience, peace. I have, by some unseen twist of fate, achieved these things in some measure.
I am still bothered by things, and sometimes am unable to control how I react, but it seems as though these times come less and less frequently and with less ferocity than ever before. It is a quiet calmness that has a hold of me, and I am glad for it's embrace. I find myself looking back, watching the moving pictures of memory flit across the screen of my inner self; and though I flinch and turn my eyes from the scenes that bother me, I am able to complete the film. I sometimes think to myself that there are many things that I would change and do differently if I had the chance, but then I wonder if that really would be the best thing. If I did that, then I would not be the person that I am today. I would not have achieved this floating sense of self, this impenetrable peace of mind, had I not been through and done what I have.
My life has been a long and interesting road; filled with twists, turns, surprises, and calamities. Still, it is mine, and I am very lucky to have lived it. For all my downs, my ups and the things that I have been fortunate to do and see have been nothing short of amazing. I'd be a fool not to be thankful for the roller coaster I'm on, and I've been a fool long enough to last me for several more lifetimes.
This peace benefits not just I, I am learning. My Sweet struggles with his own demons, voices telling of his worthlessness and darkness. His own past haunts him in ways I am only still coming to understand. It seems my calm acceptance of what life has brought me, and the quiet strength of each of my days, is helping him to put the darkness in perspective. I never would have thought that I could be an effective role model in dealing with the inner struggles of the soul, but the good Lord has blessed me yet again. He has blessed me with this beautiful, sweet, gentle man who accepts and loves me; and he has blessed me with the means to soothe him in his moments of need.
Life is indeed beautiful, and I am ever blessed. God smiles upon me.
Tuesday, December 25, 2012
Saturday, October 13, 2012
Monday, October 8, 2012
A good start on: Life is such a strange, funny place to hang out...
Life is such a strange, funny place to hang out. One minute you're listening to a buddy regale you with the latest tale of single, drunken debauchery as you yawn and wish you were drunk enough to be laughing at his antics; and the next thing you know you're facedown...
No, wait. That's not where I was going with this at all. Where in hell did that come from, anyway? *shrug* Oh well. Where was I? Oh yeah, life is strange. I don't think that would come as a shock to anyone, at least not anyone that knows even the least little bit about me. These last couple of years have been a wild, crazy, runaway pony ride - even more so than my usual chaotic existence.
I was going to say that I wasn't sure that I could pinpoint when the chaos swallowed me whole, but then I would just be lying to myself. I know the precise moment in time that my life was forever altered and I gave myself up to the surging tides of utter indifference. I was later told that the sound that came out of my mouth haunts the nightmares of old friends. That moment was the purest, hottest, most soul-twisting; the whole of the universe compressed into a single pin-prick in space; all of my existence/substance/self collapsed down into a single microsecond; sucked inside out and passed through the other side of the black hole understanding of anguish. Going back to that moment in time is mesmerizing. I become lost in the memory and time slows to a halt as I go back there; where there is no time.
Loss is something that everyone experiences differently I suppose, and I don't suppose my reaction was really all that out of the realm of the norm. I suppose many women would have made similar choices to the ones that I made when I gave in to that indifference. It was almost like waking from a fugue, to find myself warmed in the cotton embrace of comforting disillusionment.
No, wait. That's not where I was going with this at all. Where in hell did that come from, anyway? *shrug* Oh well. Where was I? Oh yeah, life is strange. I don't think that would come as a shock to anyone, at least not anyone that knows even the least little bit about me. These last couple of years have been a wild, crazy, runaway pony ride - even more so than my usual chaotic existence.
I was going to say that I wasn't sure that I could pinpoint when the chaos swallowed me whole, but then I would just be lying to myself. I know the precise moment in time that my life was forever altered and I gave myself up to the surging tides of utter indifference. I was later told that the sound that came out of my mouth haunts the nightmares of old friends. That moment was the purest, hottest, most soul-twisting; the whole of the universe compressed into a single pin-prick in space; all of my existence/substance/self collapsed down into a single microsecond; sucked inside out and passed through the other side of the black hole understanding of anguish. Going back to that moment in time is mesmerizing. I become lost in the memory and time slows to a halt as I go back there; where there is no time.
Loss is something that everyone experiences differently I suppose, and I don't suppose my reaction was really all that out of the realm of the norm. I suppose many women would have made similar choices to the ones that I made when I gave in to that indifference. It was almost like waking from a fugue, to find myself warmed in the cotton embrace of comforting disillusionment.
Percolating
I sat tonight and looked at old photos and reminisced. It started as a simple treasure hunt for one particular photo that I had on my mind. I don't even remember now which one. But as I sat and flipped through the photos, all the memories came back to me. The music, the smells. The laughter, the silliness. The joy.
Our brains, and particularly mine, have a way of whitewashing the past. All the bad memories are there, but when I think about those times, I am not thinking of all the things that were wrong, I am thinking of all the things that were right. I have always had an ability to put the nastier bits of life onto a dark dusty shelf in the back of my mind, where they sit and gather cobwebs. Every once in awhile, I pull them out and examine them. Then I put them back on that shelf, walk away, and close the door to that particular storage closet of memory. Sometimes something sneaks through, usually when I least expect it. Some things simply refuse to sit on that shelf, and no matter how hard I keep trying to cram that memory into one of the boxes and bags littering that shelf, the damn thing falls out and conks me on the head every time I turn around.
But mostly...
mostly...
Mostly those things stay hiding away in their disused corner of dismay. I let them hold their place on the shelf, and they politely remain there. It hasn't always been that way, but it seems to be something that I get better and better at through time. This has both benefits and drawbacks. Some people see it as a unique strength that I have. For all the chaos that I have lived through, I still walk with a smile on my face and my head held high. As my sweetie put it, thanks to the inspiration of King of the Hill, I am mud. When asked if I'll be ok, in any given situation my answer is always the same. I'll be ok. I'll survive. I always survive. And I do.
While things are fresh and raw they are hard to put aside, but aside they shall be. Leaving behind in active memory only those things which are pleasant to recall. The yahtzee games, the cards. The dancing, and laughing, and singing. Nights in the kitchen, nights at the grill. Nights in the bar, in the bedroom, in the park, and on the road. The things that make you giggle. The things that make you sigh. I tend to tear up and cry at these memories. Not because I am sad, but because I am so profoundly glad to have them. To be able to remember those times, those feelings. And especially to be able to embrace the joy of memory without then having the immediate dispersal of any happiness imparted due to the descent of the negative vapor that contains those things that tainted that stage of life.
It may only be true for my existence, but I have found that the dark vapor is an ever present character in our ever unfolding dramas. In all stages of life it has a presence, and no matter how happy and fulfilled you are it is there raining down what influence it can. Sometimes things are really bad, and sometimes things are just uncomfortable; but it's there isn't it?
I am fortunate to have had the life I have had, for all it's goods and bads. I am happy to be able to reflect on the joy of life, and to leave the pain on it's shelf in the back.
The drawback however, ahhh the drawback. The drawback is that sometimes I am too good at leaving the bad behind the good. Sometimes I focus so hard on that good, I actively ignore the bad. It is in essence, banished immediately to the shelf. I find myself actively justifying everything to put into the good light, rather than the bad. In the past few years I got so good at it, I justified myself right out of existence.
But here I am now, in a new place, with a new life, and a new love. Able to continue reflecting and seeing mostly the good. But more aware that I have to keep an eye on that shelf, too. It can't get too cluttered. Every once in awhile, you have to actually clean it off, dust it, and throw out the stuff that you simply don't need anymore.
I have the chance to find myself again. Unencumbered. I have a completely new life, that is bright with promise. I am in a place, with new people, and a new future. I can rediscover who I am without fear. I am with someone whom I have been friends with for nearly twenty years. Who has seen me at both my best and at my worst, and has still opened his home and his heart to me. All I can think is that this is a damn good place to be. There will be many more pictures and memories, both good and bad. I'm so very glad for that.
Our brains, and particularly mine, have a way of whitewashing the past. All the bad memories are there, but when I think about those times, I am not thinking of all the things that were wrong, I am thinking of all the things that were right. I have always had an ability to put the nastier bits of life onto a dark dusty shelf in the back of my mind, where they sit and gather cobwebs. Every once in awhile, I pull them out and examine them. Then I put them back on that shelf, walk away, and close the door to that particular storage closet of memory. Sometimes something sneaks through, usually when I least expect it. Some things simply refuse to sit on that shelf, and no matter how hard I keep trying to cram that memory into one of the boxes and bags littering that shelf, the damn thing falls out and conks me on the head every time I turn around.
But mostly...
mostly...
Mostly those things stay hiding away in their disused corner of dismay. I let them hold their place on the shelf, and they politely remain there. It hasn't always been that way, but it seems to be something that I get better and better at through time. This has both benefits and drawbacks. Some people see it as a unique strength that I have. For all the chaos that I have lived through, I still walk with a smile on my face and my head held high. As my sweetie put it, thanks to the inspiration of King of the Hill, I am mud. When asked if I'll be ok, in any given situation my answer is always the same. I'll be ok. I'll survive. I always survive. And I do.
While things are fresh and raw they are hard to put aside, but aside they shall be. Leaving behind in active memory only those things which are pleasant to recall. The yahtzee games, the cards. The dancing, and laughing, and singing. Nights in the kitchen, nights at the grill. Nights in the bar, in the bedroom, in the park, and on the road. The things that make you giggle. The things that make you sigh. I tend to tear up and cry at these memories. Not because I am sad, but because I am so profoundly glad to have them. To be able to remember those times, those feelings. And especially to be able to embrace the joy of memory without then having the immediate dispersal of any happiness imparted due to the descent of the negative vapor that contains those things that tainted that stage of life.
It may only be true for my existence, but I have found that the dark vapor is an ever present character in our ever unfolding dramas. In all stages of life it has a presence, and no matter how happy and fulfilled you are it is there raining down what influence it can. Sometimes things are really bad, and sometimes things are just uncomfortable; but it's there isn't it?
I am fortunate to have had the life I have had, for all it's goods and bads. I am happy to be able to reflect on the joy of life, and to leave the pain on it's shelf in the back.
The drawback however, ahhh the drawback. The drawback is that sometimes I am too good at leaving the bad behind the good. Sometimes I focus so hard on that good, I actively ignore the bad. It is in essence, banished immediately to the shelf. I find myself actively justifying everything to put into the good light, rather than the bad. In the past few years I got so good at it, I justified myself right out of existence.
But here I am now, in a new place, with a new life, and a new love. Able to continue reflecting and seeing mostly the good. But more aware that I have to keep an eye on that shelf, too. It can't get too cluttered. Every once in awhile, you have to actually clean it off, dust it, and throw out the stuff that you simply don't need anymore.
I have the chance to find myself again. Unencumbered. I have a completely new life, that is bright with promise. I am in a place, with new people, and a new future. I can rediscover who I am without fear. I am with someone whom I have been friends with for nearly twenty years. Who has seen me at both my best and at my worst, and has still opened his home and his heart to me. All I can think is that this is a damn good place to be. There will be many more pictures and memories, both good and bad. I'm so very glad for that.
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