It is amazing in a very toxic sort of wonder how the thoughts we think and even worse believe can be the paralyzing negativity that keeps us stuck in sadness, darkness, brokenness, hopelessness…
I am 25 years old. I’m not getting any younger, but I am most certainly getting older. And as I age all the walls, scars, bruises, anger, sadness, and the like from all the years before continue to be the prison guards in this fortress of misery I keep ending up in.
I am not happy. I am not sad. I am not content. I am not particularly discontent. I am filled with so much hunger for more. More than my past. More than my present. More than this ache inside of me that grows and dies over and over. I am starving for warmth and understanding. My mouth waters at the thought of a life beyond these gates. A life beyond this emptiness. A life beyond feeling lost in my own skin. Feeling trapped to repeat this cycle of pain again and again.
I want to breathe. I want my lungs to expand with the sweetness of joy. I want to be ravaged by laughter and love. I want to be safe and comfortable inside my body. I want to let go of the scars they cut into my soul. I want to move forward and never ever look behind me again. Are such things possible for me? I fear not, and yet I desperately hope so.
I wonder about the people who come here and read my words. I wonder if you realize I am no better than you. I am broken in many places. I am also healing in those many places. I’m a mess of emotions, scars, desires, and fears. I am searching. Searching for connection with myself, with God, with others. I am searching for peace and restoration over my childhood. Over the sadness and hurt and anger I feel over being molested. That kills me. It kills me that one person’s choice has shattered so many parts of me. And I am slowly finding those pieces and trying to see the light that still reflects in them.
I feel nauseous because I am so overwhelmed with thoughts, feelings, dreams, fears, hopes, doubts all the freaking time. I am soaked in thoughts. I am drenched in fears. I am still learning how to swim through the currents of my mind. There is no life jacket. There is no rescue boat. I am stuck in this ocean of me and I have to learn to swim or I will surely drown.
I’m not an easy person to love. I am an easy person to like, but not love. I am a lot of work. I carry burdens and nightmares that not many can understand or accept. I don’t really know what family looks like. I don’t really know what home feels like. I love the people who share the blood inside of my veins but we are broken. We have always been broken people who live together. I love them, but I don’t believe love is enough.
I’m moody. I feel everything too intensely. I’m so emotional. I care too much and so my heart bleeds often. That is who I am. I am learning to accept that. I tend to blame myself when things go wrong. I know now my past has a lot to do with that mentality. I blamed myself for what happened to me. And the silence became another wall I am still breaking through. I am OCD. I am very introverted. People exhaust me and yet I love them and would do anything in my power to help them lighten their load.
I struggle with balance. Balancing food, thoughts, feelings, relationships, time. I struggle with speaking the way I don’t with writing. It’s hard to be vulnerable before another person. I don’t trust people. I don’t know how to let them all the way in. I don’t even see the door. Another thing I am working on. I struggle with finding beauty in myself. I see the radiance of others so easily and yet when I look at myself there are so many shadows. It’s hard to see the light in me. It’s hard to believe I have such loveliness inside of me. I struggle with receiving love.
I’ve see what people who are supposed to love you do. I’ve seen love be used as an excuse to tear apart a person. To make them crumble in a heap of sorrow. I’ve experienced the betrayal of love. The person who should protect me is the one who destroys me. So I don’t know about this love. I don’t know how to trust that it won’t give me more scars.
And yet I believe that love can be good. Love can be safe. Love can heal. But I don’t know that good love can or will find me. All these hurts need to flood out of me before I can even hope for such things. It hurts. My heart hurts. It has hurt for so long, and still yet I don’t know quite how to soothe her. How to calm her. How to love her. Her beats are heavy with sorrow. I do not know how to lighten the load.
I don’t do the things I want to do because I am afraid of failing. I don’t know how to give myself the space to make mistakes. To screw up and be okay with the mess I make. I wish I’d grown up knowing mistakes are okay. Failures are okay. That beauty and wisdom comes from the disasters me make. I wish someone had shown me that I don’t need to be perfect. I just need to be honest.
The only thing I do is write because if I didn’t write I wouldn’t breathe and then I’d be dead. Writing is my way of letting it out. And even in the midst of these words I hesitate. I don’t want to hesitate anymore. I just want to do it. I just want to freely let it ALL out. I don’t want to think so much about every little freaking detail. Or how other people might feel. Or if I look stupid. Or that I’m not good enough. Or that it needs to be perfect. Or that I suck so I should just stay on the sidelines.
I want to say here I am. All of me. Here I am in all my madness and beauty. Stay or leave but I am still going to shine as me. Why won’t I let myself shine? Why won’t I let the screams, the words, the tears, the colors, the hopes, the fears, the dreams, the hurts pour out into my life, into my art? Why am I holding back? Why am I still in this fortress?
When I think of my life I wonder God is this how I will always be? Will I always search but never find? Will this heartache remain till I die? Will I never know the joy of good love? The sweetness of having someone I can trust? Will all the stories written in my skin and bones never be known? Will I die having never truly lived?
I don’t want a grand life. I don’t want my name to be known by everyone. I don’t want to be loved or even liked by all that know me. I just want honesty in my life. In my heart. In my relationships. With myself. In the art I create.
I don’t want to stay here. I need to find the will to break down every single wall around and inside of me and never look back.
I want to know that life and love don’t always cause fear.
I want to know that it’s okay to screw up and fail.
I want to know that these tears will not always slide down my cheeks.
I want to know that hope and faith can destroy the fears and doubts crawling in my soul.
I want to know that scarred and shattered I am still beautiful and strong.
I want to know that even in the darkness and sadness joy can be seen.
I want to know that my past does not imprison who I am or will be.
I want to know that I am not going to hurt like this for the rest of my life.
I believe that it does get better.
I believe that God restores the broken.
I believe that one day I will see the blessing in this sorrow.
I believe that my story will help someone write their own.
I believe that tomorrow is another day, another chance.
I believe that I will learn how to breathe again in my skin.
I believe that in the end good wins, hope restores, and love heals
And I believe that even now I am making a dent in those walls.