Sometimes I wake up and have such a sense of being “missing” Like I don’t belong. Out of sync with everything and every one. All the things that should be familiar shift out of focus. All the things that seemed so solid become fluid and uncertain. Trying to find an anchor that will tie me into some sense of who I am or who I’m supposed to be.
I find myself searching my memories. Trying desperately hard to feel the warmth of the summer sun, on those lazy days that seemed to go on forever.
Trying to remember the warmth of human contact and spiritual innocence.
What keeps coming back is the way that everything seems to change. Love once declared to the point of death, becomes cold and distant. Friendships that were so fundamental to my existence become peripheral. At times through my life there were people and causes that I would have given my life for. Those same people would cross the road if they saw me in the street, and those causes seem barely able to spark a conversation.
Ultimately it brings me to a place of recognising a deep sense of abandonment and rejection. Both in terms of my rejection and abandonment of my ideals and goals and in terms of being rejected and abandoned by those whose love and friendship was promised
I sense the compromises I have made in order to “fit in” and they have diluted my sense of who I am supposed to be. If only I could be strong enough to have remaind as I was. A child. Naïve, un-jaded, believing in and depending on the structures around me.
It was better when I didn’t know that people, governments, teachers, preachers, friends and family were capable of lying. In the deepest most profound ways. I guess I accepted that this is what we do. We lie about everything to everyone. So I lied too. The worst part of that was lying to myself.
Bleeding is the only word that defines and provides the weight that fits the sum total of how I feel. In some sense I have bled all my life, from the first time I was punished, my first abandonment by my mother at school, the recognition that the word “Brother, Father, mother, sister” actually don’t mean very much. To the many many times I have had loves, friends and family who once laughed with me, then frown at me to ultimately dismissing me.
I guess the love I’m crying for,….. screaming for, is the pure unadulterated, unconditional kind. The kind of love that has no agenda, no requirements. The kind that doesn’t change on a whim or is withdrawn when I don’t play along. The kind that is there waiting for me when I mess up. The kind that is always warm. That precious sense of being deeply cared for and recognised. The kind of love that sees me in the best possible light…… always.
I find myself searching my memories. Trying desperately hard to feel the warmth of the summer sun, on those lazy days that seemed to go on forever.
Trying to remember the warmth of human contact and spiritual innocence.
What keeps coming back is the way that everything seems to change. Love once declared to the point of death, becomes cold and distant. Friendships that were so fundamental to my existence become peripheral. At times through my life there were people and causes that I would have given my life for. Those same people would cross the road if they saw me in the street, and those causes seem barely able to spark a conversation.
Ultimately it brings me to a place of recognising a deep sense of abandonment and rejection. Both in terms of my rejection and abandonment of my ideals and goals and in terms of being rejected and abandoned by those whose love and friendship was promised
I sense the compromises I have made in order to “fit in” and they have diluted my sense of who I am supposed to be. If only I could be strong enough to have remaind as I was. A child. Naïve, un-
It was better when I didn’t know that people, governments, teachers, preachers, friends and family were capable of lying. In the deepest most profound ways. I guess I accepted that this is what we do. We lie about everything to everyone. So I lied too. The worst part of that was lying to myself.
Bleeding is the only word that defines and provides the weight that fits the sum total of how I feel. In some sense I have bled all my life, from the first time I was punished, my first abandonment by my mother at school, the recognition that the word “Brother, Father, mother, sister” actually don’t mean very much. To the many many times I have had loves, friends and family who once laughed with me, then frown at me to ultimately dismissing me.
I guess the love I’m crying for,….. screaming for, is the pure unadulterated, unconditional kind. The kind of love that has no agenda, no requirements. The kind that doesn’t change on a whim or is withdrawn when I don’t play along. The kind that is there waiting for me when I mess up. The kind that is always warm. That precious sense of being deeply cared for and recognised. The kind of love that sees me in the best possible light…… always.