I have had a lot of time for introspection lately. Too much time, really. Between the wakefulness thanks to nightmares and my own general introspection any way, coupled with this year’s crippling events, I have had more than enough time to delve deeply in to all the things that make me who and what I am. This is rarely a good thing. I cannot say, yet, whether this has been a good thing recently, either. Though I have come to some conclusions.
I recently did something that has, to date, been one of the three hardest things I have ever done. I sat down and wrote all the things I could, at the time, think that I love about someone. It is much harder than it sounds. I have often thought about it before, and when I did, I often found myself snapping back to the present with my mouth agape, eyes unfocused and staring in to memories past, lost in the swirling swarming events I hold close to my heart. I can no more put in to words the emotions these memories evoke than I can adequately explain the emotions of giving birth, swinging from flesh hooks, adopting a child out, being beat by your spouse, escaping death. They are all things that have no words, in any language, to really explain. Though some of those I can explain better than others. Love, fear, loss..these emotions will never be adequately explained, and they are the three that make us do the most fucked up things. They make us stand when we should flee, they make us flee when we should stand. They make us give when we should take, they make us take when we should give. Or in my case, I don’t really feel fear so much, as I have written before. I have found my fear response tends to go in to pure on “fuck you, I survive” mode where I go incredibly cold and calculating or I skip right over fear in to straight up terror. Either way, I don’t run. Ever, so far. I face it. Then I face it again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And I keep facing it.
I am the type of person who, if I don’t want to do something, if I “fear” it, I have to do it. Period. Regardless the consequences, I have to do it. Yes, I know the consequences. I know the chances of me being hurt in some cases are pretty fucking ridiculously high, but I have to do it. Sometimes, as I told a friend last night:
I don’t care about much, but I’ve lost nearly all I DO care about this year. Sometimes you gotta throw it all out see what comes back.