I live in secret, a voyeur of monolithic proportion. I do not live an authentic life of my own because I am an outsider of reality. I focus on things that I have power over, that I can be in charge of, and leave the rest to the wayside of my life. I covet this as success, though to a healthy, well-rounded person it is a farce. I am a participant in life, like a member in an audience, and when the show is over, I go home, alone, confined, lost. This is a coping mechanism that I use to protect me from that which I fear that I cannot overcome. It is built on the fear of all that has been lost and all that can be swept away in life. It leaves me feeling empty- a crust atop of nothingness, a significant outer shell of no substantive worth. This is the secret that I live.......one that I want to break wide open and find the root of. There are so many reasons why I should not, but the hurt of it all is a constricting noose that notches in on me inch by inch until I can hardly breathe. Lately, I feel it tightening more and more.
I have built a life of caring for others, with the hope that those people will throw a bit of love and light my way. It leaves me feeling leeched upon with nothing left to give and it is time that I begin to find my place in the world independent of those who rely on me so much. It feels like I'm scavenging for leftovers in the world and apparently I have become ok with that. Why do I not value myself more than that? Why do I feel that I need permission to become the person that I want to be?
So many internal questions, struggles, and pain in need of a deep catharsis. Why does therapy cost so much money that a single mother cannot afford to go and seek healing for herself? Why does everything in this life revolve around finances?
"You can't conquer what you don't confront, you can confront what you don't identify."
Damn--the truth stings a little bit.
No comments:
Post a Comment