Sometimes you need a lifeline, and too many of us can’t find one. In our darkest hours and deepest sorrow and despair, we need a life jacket. We need something that will help us stay afloat in the turbulent waters.
If I had not found my lifeline when I did, I would not be alive today. Those who have survived attempts are the strongest people I know. And with that, I’d like to think I’m strong, too.
I hope that I can thank him extensively in person soon. And I know I will.
This is more of a serious post, but I find that writing while in raw emotion is the best way to create breathtaking beauty.
Don’t give up. Find a lifeline. It’s worth it. You will thank yourself later.
Accepting things can be difficult, if not impossible. Especially when these things you need to accept are some of your greatest fears.
I have always had a slew of fears regarding my physical health, because I was born with three major organs being chronically ill. I’ve been very sick my entire life, but now at 23 years old, the reality sets in. It’s not just my organs that are in danger, but other parts of my body as well that are considered disposable.
I discovered a long time ago that when the body is fighting to provide for a failing organ – let alone three failing organs – that it will give up on what is considered ‘superficial’, such as teeth and finger and toe nails. But there are other things the body will also give up – the senses of sight and hearing.
As I am already aware that my sight has been on a steep decline, it has always been a paralyzing fear of mine to be blind. How would I write? Sketch? See my loved ones? Now it’s a reality that I need to come to terms with – something I had always thought I could avoid. The same can and probably will happen for my hearing. To be deaf is scary enough, but to be deaf and blind at the same time is terrifying. I’m only 23 years old, and I have my entire life ahead of me. Still though, I don’t consider it over.
I don’t see acceptance as weakness; I see it as noble. To accept your deepest fears, allow them to happen and then to keep moving forward is something I am fortunately pretty good at.
It’s not easy to accept these things, and there is certainly no shortage of tears. But if I do end up losing these portions of myself, I know I will gain others in the long run.
And who knows? Maybe they will end up healing. Or…maybe even with these challenges I can be the one in a million that makes it work. A blind painter. A deaf singer. A dancer who has always struggled to move. It has happened before, so who is to say it won’t happen again?
Trust is stained on my lips, my hands, my heart. I can’t help but allow it to depart. Now in these single days and hours that feel so long, perhaps there will be a time when trust won’t feel so wrong.
In everything I’m meant to be, writing will be solace for me. Something comfortable and clean. It won’t ever be mean.
In the absence of cruelty and the essence of confusion, I don’t understand this particular intrusion. My fingers on my pulse and my hair up in a bun, maybe this day I’ve won.
My heart beats steady, just like it should. Beating to the rhythm of the melody within my own head, perhaps it could. And in these darkening nights and haunting curtains, perhaps to be comfortable, I would.
In this silence that encompasses reality, there’s just something that can’t touch this simplicity. It should be complicated, but caught within I know I was wrong. Indeed; I did write this song. And now in every direction I turn, for you it is that I yearn.
Thinking myself to burnt out, the words no longer coming to my mind. I am not burnt out, but simply having to mine for the words that line my very thoughts. I never thought I would be filled with infinite possibilities; but with disabilities.
Nothing can stop me from dancing to the renegade’s song. On my own I am strong. I make my own path, take part in my own life. Making passageways through the labyrinths that are mine. Mine and mine only. To me, they are holy.
I love who I am for once, and I will never give up this chance to do so. To my own self-love, I will never say no.
To write is to become immortal. These scripted words upon this worn out page.
This is something I recently learned. I’m fascinated with writing and in love with it now more than ever.
I love to write because it helps me to understand myself, and how I’m feeling. Been recently I’ve been feeling a little burnt out. I apologize for that. Perhaps writing so much a day took it out of me! Either way, I feel exhausted. But one thing is for sure: I’ll never get tired of writing.
Can I just say that it’s never a good idea to open Pandora’s Box on a Sunday afternoon? And by ‘opening Pandora’s Box’, I mean opening that little box in your mind that contains all of the things that cause pain, all of the things you’ve filed away that you no longer look at, and the most painful things that you choose never to look at again. Yeah, that’s what I opened yesterday afternoon. And it caused not one, but two panic attacks.
I’ve struggled all of my life with various anxiety diagnoses, but recently they have lumped all of the individual diagnoses into one large diagnosis that simply states ‘anxiety’. So, because of my ‘anxiety’ (made up of several smaller diagnoses), I tend to have many panic attacks, although I haven’t had one for a very long time. I used to have them everyday, but I thought I’d gotten a handle on them…until yesterday.
Like I said: never a good idea to open Pandora’s Box. At least, that’s what I call it. It’s just one of those things that I don’t usually talk about. In fact, my anxiety issues embarrass me quite a lot. Nobody around me quite understands my anxiety. So, I tend to hide it. But one of the more prevalent issues is social anxiety. That’s usually why I just like to stay here in my bat cave and work on stories and write in the dark in the middle of the night here on my desktop.
But I digress…once again.
I’ve never really felt comfortable sharing personal issues, mainly because I’m usually called an ‘attention-seeker’ by those around me, and also because I just don’t like to burden people with them.
What about you? Have you ever opened your own Pandora’s Box and not been able to close it? Or do you even struggle with having an internal Pandora’s Box?
Let me know in the comments below.