I always walk into the face of danger, into the chaos and any other storm many may shy away from with an unbreakable fearless strength. I dare it to test me, I’m ready to fight and do whatever it takes to defeat it; to defend others and even more so if they are the ones I care for. To protect those I love, those who will not stand up for themselves and those who do not feel worthy of that sort of love and kindness seems as interchangeable as the blood in my veins as it pulses behind the skin wrapped around this damn meat suit I’m trapped in, inside of this shell they all claim to admire or even love.
Chaos is simple. The storm and the fight is simple. This is where I feel the most alive. This is where I feel whole. The thunder in me beats like a drum and I thrive and move with its rhythm. It is where I feel worthy.
It ends there. It has always been a struggle to hold the same sort of savior complex it seems I bare for others; when it comes to my own heart, soul and mind. I’m not even sure when or why I decided I was unworthy of such decency. Truthfully, that is what it boils down to isn’t it? Compassion and human decency on your worst of days, the days where your true character is challenged and all you are and have been taught what you are worth comes to light like a supernova, and everyone’s perception of the event is clouded by their own experiences, including your own.
Continuously plagued by nightmares and I still can’t understand how my own brain is capable of putting me through such terror, nearly every night. Reliving traumas that some nights I can no longer tell if they have even happened in real life or if they are only wicked fantasy horror’s far worse than most could even imagine I have thrusted upon myself as some sort of penance for still existing. Often wondering where the line of horrible truths and the relentless combination of horrifying theatrics and creative viscous genius; actually lies.
In the day, I am always fighting for a better a future for my son and for that to include me in his life as someone worthy of that extraordinary imagined existence. Each morning I wake I fight for my right to love and be loved and setting goals to earn such love by being better in all aspects of my life. Yet, I fear I am not fighting for it in a way that shows I believe I truly deserve it. Deserve love, peace and even joy. The words I recognize and the rational part of my brain knows I do, cause fuck, we all do. We all deserve so much more than we ever give ourselves credit for. I don’t know how to believe I do. To truly believe it and feel it when in the depths of me this poison has taken hold of me over the years. Seeping in slowly and steadily, in the shadows of all of my best intentions and valiant failed efforts.
So, why does this nagging cruelty nag at me that I am meant to suffer and to endure for the rest of my days? Why is being vulnerable the fasted to trip to numb or dissociation without a moment to correct this ridiculous notion thrust upon me? Why does the lack of control drive the deepest anxiety I have ever felt in the marrow of my bones where I swear I will drown in it and feel as if I am drowning regardless? I am often asked to trust only as swiftly as I am reminded not to. Then there is love, if and when I feel what I associate the feeling of love it is accompanied by a nagging question of is this a risk worth taking? Am I even capable of breathing in love and all the good reaching toward me from it knowing all the while a million fragmented images play behind my eyes like some sort of madness of all the ways every situation could go drastically wrong if I succumb and relinquish control, trust, exhale, try and allow myself to feel love?
Someday I hope the thought of being vulnerable isn’t quite so exceptionally painful. That the word control, is associated more with driving a car or a single turn playing a board game than this intricate woven waking nightmare of reality where every molecule of surviving this life is what life is. Someday where the idea of love shoots a calming recognizable warmth throughout my cold clenched vessel, filling me with peace, happiness and relentless joy. Where the idea of trust isn’t a trigger but rather a matter of fact welcomed component of my life. Where life is about balance and not about preparing and accepting the worst but truly allowing myself to hope for the best and maybe accepting days will be good and bad and how it goes is about how I react to it rather than some cosmic retribution.
Fear is a powerful force.
Be kind to others and please be kind to yourself.
