can something you were so sure of be a complete lie? Surely some truth remains in the ashes – a hope, a spark. A spark to ignite a fire that can bring ruin? Or, a spark to light the way to freedom? Or, maybe everything was a lie… a delicately conceived plan to bring you to your knees by some stronger power than yourself. A power to rip you open and make you recreate yourself because without it, you would never know who you really are. It’s a dangerous thing – that thing called life. Love. Nothing is uncomplicated in this world.
how…
a Beautiful disaster
So many questions, so many thoughts and finally, a resting place – a question to God…
“Do you think I’m unbreakable?”
Broken pieces – we’re all made up of them. Sometimes we cut ourselves on other people’s broken pieces, sometimes we cut ourselves on our own. I’m broken. I’m shattered. I’m a mess. I’m human. So many thoughts and words and feelings are a constant bombardment. Solace and peace is what I hope for. The itch to flee is ever present, lingering below the surface… slowly simmering and sometimes rising far enough to the top to boil over and make me burn on the inside. But, I can’t run away. Why? Because, somewhere deep down inside of me there is something growing. Hope. Sympathy. Empathy. Care. Love. Compassion. From my mistakes I am finding renewal. But, it’s hard. It’s harder than anything I’ve done before. I find myself facing the fire, feeling the heat and the burn and the pain and withstanding. No truer words were spoken than “two steps forward, one step back.” Most days, I think I have it together pretty well then I think God must look at me and think: “Silly girl… Let me show you more.”
My mom, in her wisdom and often in spite of my deep refusal to believe her, used to tell me so often “life is going to be hard, Patty Lauren.” Life. Is. Hard. I never wanted to believe her – because God gives us free will and I wasn’t going to be stupid enough to screw my life up. I got that one totally on lock. I’ve made mistakes – I’ve made them because I was young, because I was stupid, because I do take to heart that you shouldn’t regret anything, that even if you make a mistake it was right in that moment, etc. I’m a product of infiltration. I’ve done things against my better judgment, against my own moral compass, against what my mind was telling me… and, now I am facing the repercussions of my choices. You can’t see it by looking at me – I’m not the face of meth, I haven’t developed an eating disorder, I don’t self harm – at least, not on the outside. I’m still trying to wade through these deep waters – to come to terms with my feelings and what I think.
I never thought life could be so complicated. I never thought my life could resemble something I’ve read about or watched in movies. I feel like a loose barnacle that is just floating along, waiting for that next piece of solid stability to cling to. On those nights when the wind blows hard, the rain pelts the glass and the howl from outside numbs the feelings inside… the nights when your head is so heavy with thoughts that you wake up the next morning to a headache you are sure is caused by the words and emotions trying to escape your brain… the nights when there is no escape… Those are the nights you bleed from the brokenness.
{as always, all pictures are my own.}
In the Spring
When I was younger, my mom would say to me: “People come into our lives for a season and we don’t know how long they will stay, but they will leave you at some point. Enjoy them while they are in your life, but remember to be careful.” I remember getting genuinely angry when she would say this to me – it always came off as some sort of heeding or buzz kill. I hated it. And, I think I hated her saying it because I never wanted to acknowledge that someone I cared about would leave. That doesn’t happen – when you care about someone, when they’re your friend, when you’re in love… those people don’t leave. Of course, I was 18 and my mom had no idea what she was talking about and she hadn’t lived the life *I* was going to live. No sir – I was going to keep everyone and we would sing Kumbaya by a fire every Friday night. Wrong. So wrong.
I learned the “seasons” metaphor the hard way. More than once. I’m still learning it. I’ve mentioned this in a former post, but my childhood was pretty sheltered. I didn’t make a lot of “mistakes” until waaay later in life. Sometimes, I think that was good and sometimes I think that was really unfortunate. I will never forget sitting in my therapist’s office and her saying to me: “You’ve learned something a lot of people learn much younger. You learned that {insert some idea here that would seem obvious to anyone over 21} isn’t a sign of a healthy relationship.” I remember laughing – the incident we were talking about seemed so stupid. Like, how did I not think that was a bad idea at almost 30? In that moment, I realized even though I thought I had my life perfectly planned out and A, B, and C would happen in perfect order – in doesn’t happen that way. It hasn’t happened that way. I am still making mistakes and learning and growing. I have to be gentle on myself. And, likewise… it has taught me I have to be gentle with other people.
Perhaps the greatest give we can give to ourselves is to simply be. And, to not expect people to stay and fulfill our needs. We are responsible for ourselves – we’re responsible for our own happiness, our own trust issues, our sadness. That is not to say man is an island, but at the end of the day… we are responsible for our lives and our actions. There is a quote I’ve loved for a long time: “If you expect nothing from anybody, you’re never disappointed.” Maybe I love it because it’s a Plath quote and it speaks to my dark and morose, but I think it’s true. It seems bleak and it seems unattainable, but it is true. It’s impossible to not expect things from people – especially when you cultivate a close relationship. It’s going to happen. That’s normal. But, what isn’t impossible is how we let our own expectations dictate our feelings.
The past several months have been a big blur in many regards, but one thing that has stuck out to me was that at the end of last year I became completely content. I processed a lot, I went to therapy a lot, I spent a lot of time by myself, I spent time with close friends. I listened to a lot of Lana Del Rey and Carole King and Carly Simon. I ran – a lot. I started practicing yoga. I let myself just get out whatever it was that had built up inside me – I had been on cruise control for a long time. I had become discontent and complacent. More than anything, I hated myself. These thoughts really belong in a post that I promised to make about what prompted my beach getaway over Christmas break, but I had to go through all of that to get to where I am now. It seems a simple lesson: I am responsible for myself and my own happiness. It’s a hard lesson and it’s one I have to work on every.single.day.
Seasons come and go – nothing we do will ever change that. People come and go – nothing we do will ever change that. Nothing is guaranteed in this life. Not a single, damn thing. Our pasts do not define us, other people do not define us. When we can come to a place of contentment and happiness with ourselves, minus everything else… that’s when we can appreciate each passing season and its beauty and the people that pass through our lives without want or hurt or expectation or malice.
“Don’t walk behind me; I may not lead. Don’t walk in front of me; I may not follow. Just walk beside me and be my friend.” – Albert Camus
Misty
I was driving home from helping shooting a wedding the other night and as my mind works one thing led to another and I started thinking about writing. I had recently been having some conversations that were heavy on my mind – conversations about doing what I loved and what I am passion about, but that’s another story. However, part of that is relevant for this post.
I began to think about words unspoken – specifically, love letters. I know there have been compilation books of letters between lovers, but I wondered if there were any dedicated to the love letters that were never sent to their intended recipient. I couldn’t help but think of my own unsent letters I had written – there is always a reason those things don’t get sent. For me, what was impressed upon someone to pour their heart into, yet never deliver, resonated far more than reading a letter someone had received. The stories behind the words written and the reasons why the letters were never sent – it gives me chills now just thinking about it. The next day, I did some research on the internet to see what was out there and of course I did find some books that were along those lines however, I did not expect what occurred next to have such an impact on me.
A website was asking for unsent letter submissions with the intent on making them into a compilation book. Some of the submissions had been added to the site – naturally, I started to read some of them. A small picture of a grey kitten caught my eye. (Now, you should know upfront I am one of those crazy animal people who thinks their animal is their child. More to come on this at a later date.) The letter was addressed to Misty, the cat, from an adult woman – it was an apology letter. The woman wrote from her perspective as a little girl – although she didn’t have a lot of money, she loved her kitten… she treasured her. As things happen, the kitten became ill and the girl did not have enough money to take her to the veterinarian. In her panic and heartbreak, she placed her beloved kitten in a box and took her deep into the woods, leaving her there. Alone. To die. You see, the little girl was scared and felt helpless – she didn’t know what to do. She loved her cat, but she couldn’t bear to watch it suffer and not be able to do anything. She did the only thing she could rationalize – she walked away.
We all can relate someway to this story – either as the kitten or the little girl. We’ve all walked away or been walked away from by someone we care about. It doesn’t mean genuine love or care isn’t there – it’s just the way it is. We panic. We are scared to hurt or to be hurt. We get too close and don’t want to put ourself in a situation to lose. We are selfish because we are fragile. We are human. Sometimes it is because of timing, sometimes it is because of past experiences that have burned us, and sometimes we just aren’t ready. Or, we are left behind to wonder what happened, what went wrong – was it something we did? Why are we being left alone in a time when we want to be rescued and taken care of? It’s a mismatched affair… both parties are hurting, yet both are confused and miscommunication (or no communication) only compounds the situation.
Unlike the kitten in the box, we have a choice to not stay confined to our circumstances… things are not always what they seem. People are not always cloaked in shadowy darkness – sometimes they are just as broken as we are. So, we crawl out and we move on… we shift and change and grow. We love, forgive and most importantly, accept. We accept people for who they are, we accept ourselves, and we accept this is an ever changing and never fully stable world we live in. We cling to what is good and right when we have it – and if we lose it, we remember it for the pureness that is was in those moments. We live.
If you’re interested in the website I mentioned, check it out at www.ourunsentletters.com