Here I sit, back against the wall, legs bent in a weird angle. My hands rest on the granite floor, by my sides. A doll dropped from a higher place, gazeless eyes lost in the empty space. I allowed myself to be cornered, and I don't like it. There's danger in the way I stay still, in the motionless pain that transpires from my posture. I might bite, as any wounded animal would. What am I, but just another being in a world of instincts, each and everyone pulling in a different direction, all the same in the end?
There's a roar in my chest, deafening, silent to everyone else who isn't me. It still puzzles me so much that they don't hear it. Or maybe they do, but it's more comfortable to play dumb. Been there, done that. The sound mutates as the pain does; a roar that's now a scream that's now a chainsaw. The loudest. Nonetheless, it is kind of funny, to try and get some music out of the noise, to bang these dum drums until their sound resembles the outcry at the bottom of my heart.
The noise. It tells me I should write, but I don't think I can. Actually, it's not that I can't, the words are there, I just don't know if they're mine anymore. I mean, of course, they are, I just don't know for whom anymore. So, instead of writing, my hands sit here, idle on the cold surface of the ground. Behind its apparent stillness, lies an urge. To scratch, to break, to tear, anything but to rest on an empty space. But they do rest. They don't move.
Hours go by and I find myself wandering around the house, a ghost, wearing this long-sleeved shirt and nothing more. Clothes are unbearable at times, and right now only the dark blue cotton fits, or rather matches, the pain it covers. Barefoot, from the bed to the bathroom and back, goes the ghost, over and over again. Restless. Like a caged animal that knows the secret for escaping but can't seem to make up its mind.
Oh, but I am okay. I repeat it endlessly until the words lose their meaning, and only then I can say, truthfully, that I'm okay. Whatever that is. Not that it matters. And I find myself standing here, left hand placed on my hip, very Latina-like. Right hand stirring up the contents of a pot, which I don't recognize. Blood? Guts? Pasta sauce? It's the latter, of course, but what would life be without a little horror. I'm not afraid of it (anymore). Are you?
I stir up a bit more, and I make a mess. Now my heart is not in the right place, and my brain's all messed up. I can't find anything in there. No images, no words, no sounds, no nothing. Everything has been misplaced. Erased. It might as well be all forgotten. Yet I stir and then stir some more until the burnt smell fills the house. Tough luck.
A thousand packages I sent through the mail have been returned, unopened at first sight, marked with pretty red letters that spell NOT CLAIMED. But when I remove the precincts, there is nothing in them. Their contents, gone. Lost to a void I was yet to discover. And I'm perplexed because something tells me that I should have known. The shock pulls me down, and my hands find that familiar surface, once again. Rock bottom.
I need to write, yells the empty space two inches above my sternum. I need to write or I'll lose myself to that void, too. So I sit, willing to get it all out, clueless of where to start, and how. No background seems dark enough to make these characters appear enlightening, so I choose to write at night, finally buried in a silence that can effectively balance out the noise inside my head.
As I type, the gelid, rough surface of the rock says hi. There's no light, yet I see clearly. I inhale, and water fills my lungs instead of air. And that's how I know I'm back. Back at the bottom of the sea.
I wrote these words some days ago. Hesitated for so many hours whether to post them or not because my stubborn nature refuses to give in to the darkness, every time. Over and over, I kept coming to the conclusion that these words do have meaning, some sort of value, if not for someone else then at least for me. I look back and I know I've made it, so far. And then, whatever comes next appears less daunting. If there's any chance that I can share a small fraction of the strength that provides me with you, the reader, then it's worth it to go through the shame of making public my worst moments, the rock bottom part of my life. Not in real-time, never in live-time, but transparently. With brutal honesty, but with distance enough to show you me that there's always a way forward.
For those who, after reading a few words, shivered and decided to skip this write-up and move on to happier instances, well, good for them. I encourage that. In a world too full of cruelty and hate, the less we can do is embrace the differences between us and the people we came across with. For you who are still here, well, thank you. It's nice to see that there are others who don't buy into the happiness lie we've been fed with. It's nice to know I'm not the only one who accepts shadows as something we can't run away from, but as yet another facet of the universes we all hold inside. Take what you need from this and please don't close the door on your way out.
Recently, after I'd been babbling incoherently for a few minutes about the complicated situations I felt stuck in, someone I hold very dearly asked me kindly to snap out of it. Complicated? It's you, your cute little mind, that's making them so. As the person explained, sometimes it's our need to come up with answers that make things so much more complicated than they are. So, rather than seeing those situations as thousands of tangled strings tightening around me, which would be complicated to get out of, I was compelled to look at them as a puzzle. A very complex one, yes, but with a less horrifying connotation now that I had taken some distance from it.
Twenty-five days I'd been away from HIVE. I can assure you each and every one of them was like a smack to the back of my head. What I had intended as an innocent, much-needed weekend break turned into a void threatening to swallow me whole. So I decided to stay away for a bit longer. The voices tried to take over, claiming the right to judge my choice. What are you doing? You're wasting your time! Get to it already, you idiot, time is money! And on the other side of the room... See? I knew it. You're never good enough. You're weak. Good thing you stopped before embarrassing yourself further. Two years ago, or a year ago, hell, even four months ago, these past days would have made me quit writing altogether again. Who knows for how long this time. But NO. I say fucking no. To myself and to everyone who dares play along with the voices. This time, I will not disappear. I'm back. To stay. Rock bottom or not, I'm back.
Right about now, I really have to go get dressed and make breakfast. I'm going on a hike and this ship runs on a tight clock. Still, I promise to myself to take some time when I get back home to connect with more people here on HIVE, my second favorite thing to do when I'm around. See you soon!
I'd like to thank you for reading this. I hope my words resonated with you in some way. If they did, or even if they didn't, I'd like to further connect with you, so I invite you to drop a comment and I'll answer it as soon as I can.
Source of the image:
📷 by Yannis Papanastasopoulos
Sometimes resisting the darkness can cause more shadows to come in. When we surrender to the void and really go all in, there's nowhere else to go but to come out of it. Thank you for sharing your words of honesty and vulnerability. They definitely resonated with me. I used to have times when I can feel the "invincible weight" on me again. And there's nothing I could do but feel it and write about it afterward. Writing has always been therapeutic for me. Hive and keeping my journal has helped me unburden my thoughts and my subconscious.
Hi Glebert, thank you for your comment, I appreciate you taking the time to read my words and to share a few of your life experiences as well. There are some things you mention that I couldn't have phrased better.
That is a great way to describe the journey I am in. Whether I share it here or not. And I'm determined to come out of it; it's really the only option for me.
As you say, journaling can be very therapeutic: writing just for the sake of lifting the weight a little. Being honest and vulnerable, first with ourselves, and then with others, can be truly scary at first but the calm that eventually comes afterward is priceless.
This is absolutely beautiful. Sometimes the darkest places can bring out our best creations if we don't let them suffocate us. It's good to see you back. Hive is a great place to vent, much better than other places online. I don't take advantage nearly enough.
Hi there! It's good to be back, thank you for taking the time to read my words and to leave a comment. I'm glad you found beauty in these words.
As you say, some of the best creations come from the light that filters through the cracks of our brokenness, our darkness. It's key to learn to push our boundaries in that respect, but only so far as to not let chaos suffocate us.
I agree, Hive is indeed a great place to be, and it can get as good as we let it, through our own journey of self-discovery and improvement. I still have a lot to give, plenty to speak of, and wouldn't want to do it anywhere else.
Welcome back! Glad that you're still around, even when you feel like sh*t.
Must admit that I didn't read the entire post ( I'm one of those people, today )
but, if you check out my blog, you'll understand why ;<)
Boa noite e até a proxima!
xx
Hi Vincent! Thank you for welcoming me back. I've thought about you many times, from under the blank of silence I was kind of buried in. Sorry about disappearing, although I'm sure you'd understand.
It's not that I feel like sh*t though. I've actually been doing a lot better, but that deserves a post (a few of them actually) by itself. First, I needed to get this out of my chest. Give it a spotlight of its own and then gently move it aside.
Thank you for not reading the entire post, as to not let it affect you, especially being such an important day for you. It's great to be able to put some distance beforehand like that. An ability I'm yet to perfect haha
Espero que estejas bem! Abraços.
Hi @beautifulwreck! I've always been the vulnerable type, the girl who cries so easily and the girl who overthinks almost all the time. Right now, I couldn't help my tears from rolling down my cheeks as I read your write-up. Every single word resonates but what pushed the first tear to drop were these lines:
There was a time people couldn't figure out why I'm going through what I'm going through. And it saddens me to remember how difficult it was to fight in the dark alone. Whenever people would ask me "Why are you acting that way?" I wished I could tell them every bits and pieces of what's inside my heart and mind. But when I realized that not all of them would even bother to listen, I stopped. I stopped explaining myself. Instead, I moved forward and lived life the way it should be lived - always grateful for what's in the present, of those who stayed, of those who listened, of those little things that remained to bring joy, love and peace.
I haven't encountered an article so beautifully written for so long now. I hope to read more from you because you are a gem here. You writing this is a blessing to others, including me. Let's continue living life one day at a time. Sending peace and love your way, fella. ❤️
Hi Pat! Thank you for your lovely comment and for sharing a few of your life experiences with me. I'm honored that you found value in these words of mine. Like you, I'm a very emotional person: vulnerable, prone to overthink. Which I find to be beautiful traits, as long as we learn to flow with them without letting them drown us.
I liked reading this. Transmits peace, and even though I know not every day can be a bright one, I aim to live life as it should be lived, present in the moment and filled with gratitude.
I really appreciate you saying this. Your comment made me smile and gave me strength. As you say... One day at a time. Thank you! May peace and love come your way, too.
This is an incredibly brave and beautiful piece of writing. Whatever you are going through, went through... I do hope that your strength is returning. I personally find writing very cathartic. When we write about our feelings, our emotions, our innermost thoughts, it brings clarity. I recently recovered from covid and after I was back at the day job albeit working from home, I still went a few days without writing which turned into a few more and it was up to 8 days (without blinking) before a friend on Hive threatened to stop talking to me on discord if I didn't write. It was the biggest kick up the proverbial I needed. I was finding it so difficult to find the time, and when I did, my focus and creative spark were awol. But after the shove...erm nudge lol... I persevered... and then wrote 4 posts in 4 days. Sometimes (most times) all we need is a little love and support thrown our way when we need it most. I did love your post and it resonated a lot with me. Sending you a big hug @beautifulwreck. !ALIVE !LUV
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