Padded Cells

Today I had one of those vibrating moments where everything sort of whizzed around me and I felt all sorts of woozy and out of body.  It happens sometimes.  I won’t go into the details of the moment or what spurred it but it happened nonetheless.

In that moment, I sort of broke my own heart because I realized that as far as I’ve come, I haven’t really come that far - in that one tiny moment, I realized I was still holding on to something that I would be served greatly by if I could release it.

Memories are a dichotomy.  As much as they tell your story they can at times break you.  It’s the elation of remembrance and the burden of it all the same.  The other day I was laughing and then I walked by a painting that he had bought me and my stomach instantly went into that wretched twisty knot place and that was that.  And unfortunately for me – the memories are everywhere.  My home, my thoughts, my ocean.  Although I have woven them into the fabric of myself I find no comfort in accepting them.

I presume I see it all as this invisible blanket that covers me.  Sometimes it’s incredibly heavy – sometimes its light but it’s there, constantly, - weighing.  

I had written a lot about not knowing shit in your 20’s.  To be honest, I’m not quite sure I know shit in my 30’s either.  I seem to be running to stand still and spinning in circles all the same.  My life, as glorious as it is…and it is…is nowhere or nothing of what I thought it would be.  And, what scares me the most – is that I have no idea what it should be.  Although I appreciate the existential idealism that ‘you are where you are supposed to be’ I don’t know if I buy it anymore because ‘here’ kinda hurts and I’ve been ‘here’ for quite some time.  But it’s subtle and it ebbs and flows.  It doesn’t rob me of happiness, it just.....- weighs.

Awhile back I had sort of made a pact with myself to not share so much.  Not write so much.  Not be so open.  I’m not really sure why but I just felt compelled to keep things close and protected.  But perhaps by doing that I’ve kept too much in and it’s all become cluttered and chaotic.  I don’t know.  And likely that’s it…what this place is.  Not knowing.  Today I’m standing in the middle of the fucking ‘not knowing’ room and darlin’ – there aren’t any doors.

Basta.