Taking out the Trash

I have always felt things strongly.  It has been consistent throughout my entire life and it has been a blessing and a curse.  It has been uplifting more times than I can count, but the times I remember in vivid detail are the ones where it has literally left me a heaping pile of discarded human emotions.  It fights my happiness, it eats away at the things I take joy from. I hate it so much and I want it to go away.  There are month’s weeks and even years I teach myself to let it go, to beat it back, to send it reeling back into whatever dark depths it spawns from.  It always comes back.  Is it something I do?  Is it my fault for letting it back in my life?  I have no clue. Should I even blame myself?  I have felt its presence coming back for months now, as if it sensed my growing joy, as if it saw the relationships I was building and the togetherness I was once again feeling.  This weekend it struck hard and fast and left me wounded from the attack.  I spent the majority of this weekend locked in my house unable to get up, unable to do anything but lie on a couch and stare at the ceiling.  I wanted to claw my brain out with anger, I felt like a prisoner in my own body, unable to enact any meaningful change of state or will myself back into existence.  I sobbed uncontrollably I wanted to call out to my friends to my family for help, I tired but then I was afraid no one would understand, or that I would lose them forever when they saw who I really was.

It’s infuriating.  I know this isn’t me, I know who I really am, I know that my friends and family would support me, but it whispers lies into my ear and I swallow it up as truth like it was candy coated pills of pure wisdom.  So I either give into it, let the thoughts course through me and hold on for dear life or I fight it and drive myself mad from the anger and exhaustion I feel from beating on what seems like a stone wall.

I thought I had this beat I thought I was winning, but I let myself fall into a false sense of security, I let the loneliness get to me again, and it’s in the loneliness that this stupid thing thrives.  So now I do the only thing I can.  I throw the words it speaks onto a page and let my logic take over.  I let my mind see the weightless words, the vacuous thoughts, the nonexistent fears.  It is a process.  The feelings that I experience leave their scars, the recovery is long, but the will to resist returns, the happiness grows and the people in my life shine once again.

I am better than I was.  15 years ago I would make the threats and the damage real.  I let it control more than my emotions, I hurt myself and those around me.  Even remembering those times makes me feel sick that I let if have all that control.  Today its control is small, and its duration short.  I must remember that I have gotten better.  I can see it right now, what I couldn’t see 10 hours ago, I am strong, I am good, and I feel silly for the torment I let myself endure these past few days.

Creating takes power, it take emotion, and it takes soul.  That is what I forgot again.  Why do I always forget that?  I have always had the need to create and maybe those two voices are related.  The whisper to create and the whisper to hate.  It tells you the things you create are bad and worthless. In fact they aren’t, they are unique and beautiful and that is what it hates because those things show the darkness what it really is.  Intangible, unimportant, meaningless and inconsequential. I let that fear stop me and in doing so I gave the wheel over and became a passenger. The need was still there but i let the whispers drive, i let them tell me it wouldn’t make a difference, that my talent isnt  great that everyone else is better.  It built up like a river against a dam and i was surprised when it eventually gave under the force.  Once again it is a process, i will remember, and next time will be better.  I will be better.

I remember what I told myself that day so long ago when I decided to fight back.

I Love You

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