I try to trace back to the beginning the desire to destroy myself. The knowledge that I don’t deserve this good and satisfying life. Unintentionally I’m fooling the people who know and love me. I’m not who they think I am.
I wonder how long I can distract myself with the beginning before I commit to the end.
I lived in a binary world for so long
It fucked with my head
Black or white
Good or evil
It fucked with my heart
If it isn’t loved it is hated
No longer my cross to bear
It will not fuck with my soul
Sitting with my heart.
Life bangs me up sometimes. I get rocked about. Battered, bruised my vulnerable heart sometimes cries. Miraculously it survives.
Sadness softens when I sit with it now and then. The intensity of the pain goes down a tiny notch.
Rest deepens with reflection on all the love I received, smiles and hugs.
Death has no mastery.
Sitting beside the river, in silence from thoughts. Energy from running water and blowing wind enters my body from my toe tips and flows out the top of my head. Loving energy swirls in my being fortifying and sanctifying it. I’m filled with undeniable truth, I’m not alone, I never was.
That I’m able to quiet my thoughts through meditation, even when it’s only a few minutes at a time, has deeply affected my life and sanity. I don’t constantly feel a vague sense of hopeless unease. I’m able go longer between attacks by the mean voice in my head that tries to convince me that I’m worthless, stupid, unloved and unworthy of anyone’s friendship. I can sleep most nights without nightmares. I don’t stay up ruminating and regretting. I recognize that I’m enough.
When someone who is vehemently against labeling people put a label on me it stopped me cold.
I’ve only ever wanted to be myself. Now I’m trapped in a box with a definition of who I’m supposed to be.
A graveyard filled with the corpses from my past. I’ve spent decades trying to ignore the endless crying from inside the coffins. Damaged and wounded versions of myself begging to be released and acknowledged.
