It’s amazing how empty one becomes when the battle continues for days and nights on end. I’ve had the flu for about thirteen days now and although it is slowly getting better physically emotionally I’m spent. You see with this flu my inner and outer world’s have dropped away. I have lost my energy to maintain whatever level of energy required for living and in trying to, you know, follow that advice about taking care of yourself, have lost another 2 jobs, failed miserably at the new one so technically 3 jobs, just like that, the life I tried so hard to build, to repair, to maintain, there is no more energy to maintain it. That and the energy to save myself seems to have gone. It’s like with this flu the virus stole my hope. My hope to become someone who counts, who’s important, who my parents can be proud of. I mean talk about losing one’s defensives or what. One thing I have learned about myself these past thirteen days is that the ghosts I’ve been chasing, the dreams I’ve been chasing have been dead and gone for a very long time.
To start, my father never wanted to be a father so what I did have for a male “hero” never wanted to be there anyway. I mean on the surface of things it looked like history in the making but this was all just a story. Doesn’t every little girl want a hero? I guess not. Then there’s the dreams of trying to figure out a connection with my mother and siblings. Somewhere inside of me I, like in this world, have always felt like an outsider, like the “special” one, the one on the short bus as my redneck in laws used to say. I mean never have I ever been close to them. There was a time I thought I was, years where that dream persisted but then I woke up. The truth is I hold them in my heart even if but I’m always looking for love in all the wrong places.
I can see now, how important it is to really love and respect yourself. It’s hard, though, to stand your ground when the people you care about see that as selfisness, not carrying your weight leaving you out consciously or unconsciously. My choices have left me with my ghost, my stories and my insecurities.
When I had decided it was time to leave this plane of morbid insecurities was a time when my mind was at war with my spirit. I had no friends, no family to turn to, a bunch of lies I had told myself. One being that what I did didn’t matter but I realize now that it does. That line was a line my abusers, my father, my grandfather used to tell me. “It doesn’t matter what you do because you don’t matter to me or anyone and no one is going to help or save you”. Well, they were right about one thing, there are no saviours in this world. This is so hard for me to really feel, really get, because it breaks my heart in so many pieces.
Broken, shattered like a mirror on the ground,
Shiney, red pieces lying there.
There are so many, how do I pick them up without breaking it further.
Some, of the pieces, are like dust, red powder blowing away in the wind.
So, as this virus moves through my body, like an angry bee, my spirit fights to defend itself. Finding my dignity about who I am in this world seems to be the hardest fight. Haven’t you heard though,”what you resist, persists.” Eckhart Tolle said that. What am I resisting? What am I fighting, well I said it didn’t I, my spirit. It’s so scary waking up one day and realizing that the life you tried to make for yourself is a lie, or at least some of it is. If I let go will the people I care for still be there, or are they an illusion born of the lies I told myself. My spirit just wants to soar, my heart just wants to hold onto my children and dare I say my family, my friends. If I let go, how far will I fall? God my sides hurt.