Means to An End

What do you do when everything you ever dreamt of suddenly becomes everything that will never exist?

How do you carry on with your life when half of your livelihood is ripped out of you and thrown into a shredder that houses tiny pieces of broken dreams and dismantled hope. Watching as everything slips away, knowing there's nothing you can do to stop it; instinctively trying to grab it, hold it a little tighter and more appreciatively, but the more you try to keep hold of it the further away it slips.

How do you move on from yourself? From what you always thought would be? How do you keep your composure when an entirely different song starts playing? How do you say goodbye to something you never thought you'd be without?

And, most importantly, when does it get better? When is the day you start again? 

Does it ever really feel the same? Do you ever really get back to the person you were before? Or are you always broken. Empty, in need of something to fill that inner gap that you somehow wear on your forehead. One that, try as you may, you can never cover up. It's too big to ignore, too big to conceal and perhaps even too big to fill. It just sits there, as a constant reminder of what once was, who you once were, and the pain that now lies in its every crevice. Potential to be patched up, but never again whole. 

And it hurts even more that it's obvious -- when people point it out. It hurts even more when people look at you and can see the bottomless pit that you've been sleeping in; when they tell you you have changed, you're not the person you used to be.

"I know", is all I can say. "I miss her too".

"But how can I get her back?"

I've been trying so hard to keep my spirit bright; to keep my light shining even though it's dull and small. I've been trying so hard to keep positive every day; be grateful for all things great and small, keep my soul and my inner voice intact and upright. But it gets hard sometimes, being positive.

It's hard to not believe that the only thing certain in life is an end. To everything. 

After all, we aren't here forever. 

Love and Time

Sometimes when I think of God, I think of time. Other times when I think of God, I think of love.

Sometimes, I feel like God IS love, and everything else, all the other details and relatively meaningless things that we humans use to separate ourselves, don't matter one bit. And when I think about it, about how we all try to find ways to make our God better than their God, it makes me sad -- the way we hold to our beliefs with such hubris when all that really matters is what we are all trying to achieve: Goodness.

Love; in every religion, place and culture is the same. The only thing that changes is what we choose to love and how we choose to love. I believe we are born knowing only one thing, and it's love. Loving is natural, meanwhile its polar opposites are learned behaviours. We have to be taught to hate, to separate, to judge.

And we all naturally have a moral compass, too. We all know what is right and what is wrong. We all aspire to be better people, whether better in each other's eyes, our parent's, our enemies', our God's, it's the same goal. (Those of us with a conscience and no psychiatric disorders, of course.) It's just unfortunate that we create so many loops and obstacles for ourselves and one another to achieve that goodness and become better humans. We weave them into our bibles, our social constructs, our perceptions, our judgments ... anything to separate and rank. Anything to stop us from loving, selflessly and wholly.

But for those of us who still practise altruism, those of us who haven't gotten caught up in the narcissism that is so rampant in the world, God comes to us in the form of time. He teaches patience and humility, and that too soon is just as bad as too late. He teaches us what to focus on, what to cherish, what we will never get back.

He controls everything, father time. He decides our emotions, and the emotions of even the earth. He decides how we look, how we act, what we do. It is up to him how long heartbreak will last, how long happiness will last, how long relationships will last. He decides our health, our strength and our desires. All of it boiling down to patience. Everything in its time and not a minute earlier. That is especially so for love. We have to wait for love, for someone whose patience and resilience matches ours; wait until we find our truth and ourselves; wait until Father Time leads us right into the arms where we belong.

But in the meantime, most importantly, we have to continue to love, even when it hurts. Even, most times, without getting a single thing in return.

Apples in A Bunch

It's unfair, insulting, and perhaps a little childish to allow one bad apple to spoil the whole bunch.

But let's face it, it's human nature to generalise and group and label. It's how we apply logic to mostly illogical and inexplicable behaviour. It's how we armour up and prepare ourselves to more intelligently battle the same demon that overcame us the last time. (Plus, let's be honest here. It's usually way more than just ONE bad apple.) 

Still, as much as I hate being one of "those people", this cruel, cruel world has finally pushed me over the edge and into the sea of misery where no one is to be trusted and smiles simply cover up inner turmoil. I was invited as a plus one by my friend "company", whose invitation I had been ignoring for quite some time now. 

But grief is the name of the game. 

A person can only handle heartbreak so many times before he/she decides to take full control of his/her affairs of the heart. If you've been an avid reader of my blog, you should know how I feel about emotional pain. (Substitute for a broken leg? I'll even take menstrual cramps for 500. Please?)

Hence, I have made the unfortunate yet necessary decision to take control. And by "take control" I mean to build a wall so high that not even Humpty Dumpty would climb it. (He'd probably fall off anyway so it's probably a good idea for him to stay away. Maybe go to the gym? No pressure.)

Now, I'll be the first to call myself out on this and say how ashamed I am to see myself relapse this badly and do exactly what I try to tell others not to do, but I think I've suffered enough emotional pain this year for a lifetime. And quite frankly, I've had enough. It can't possibly hurt me anymore than how I've already been hurt to take a little time to refocus and regroup behind my impenetrable wall. It will be far too hard to do so with people coming in and out of my sanctuary at will, disturbing and destroying everything on their way out -- and sometimes, most times, even blocking the damn entrance. 

And yes, the wall "also keeps good out", not just bad, but I'll take my chances. The probability of the next penis-weilding person to come in only for the purpose of causing a raucous with his narcissism and ADHD is probably far greater than its more selfless, cautious and dedicated opposite. 

Plus, how else will I be able to see who cares enough to climb it?