Stir

If words could only truly articulate what I'm feeling right now.

There's a sense of nausea forming in the pit of my stomach and rising up into the back of my throat.  I am overcome with utter disgust at myself and the insecurities of every form of myself are bubbling up to the surface in violent waves.  I don't like this.

Who gave my heart permission to hurt like this?  To convulse and shake and stop and break.

Something is possessing me, stealing all control of me, because I have lost all function to remain cool, poised, and calm.  I really don't like this.

I'm breathing in the fumes that are making me crazy.  I'm manic.  I'm obsessed.  I'm frightened.  I'm reckless.

There's a layer of skin, just buzzing.  I feel like I'm simultaneously outside of it and fighting inside of myself.... I don't recognize me and yet I feel more like myself than ever.  Like a superhero.  Or super villain.  I want it and loathe it.  I don't know what to do with its power.  And I can't just take it back.

Tortured Souls

I've been thinking about this term: Tortured Soul.

We use the term pretty liberally, it seems, as a way to describe someone who appears emotionally unattainable.  Someone who has been through a lot.  Someone who is going through a lot.  Someone with internal demons.  Someone who caters to them.  Some people are attracted to the tortured soul.  Some know to steer away from them… But I don't know of anyone who isn't intrigued.  Because like a black hole where its gravitational pull is so immense that none can survive, they're hard to ignore...such is a tortured soul.

I've been feeling like one, lately.  I don't know if its how I would have always described myself… It feels kind of melodramatic to label myself as such, but I think of this ache, a constant tearing that goes past my skin and my flesh and I can't think of a more appropriate way to label this inherent affliction.  But when you're the one looking out, when you're the black hole, you don't notice the pull of your own weight, so to speak, because everything else seems to overwhelm your senses.  You feel all of it… the broken pieces, the chasms, the darkness, the density, and it's as though time will only tell before you just implode and disappear within yourself.

I talked to someone at a party who also had a parent pass away recently and he said, "I thought the first year was hard, but year two just sucks."  I'm paraphrasing-- I can't say if that's a direct quote, but I think it's safe to say that's the gist.  For me, it will be one year in January since my dad passed and I'm dreading it, partly because I feel like time is running out for me to grieve without people just feeling pity for me.  It feels a little pathetic sometimes, actually.  People die.  I have a good number of friends whose parents have died, and I'm sure most of them were a lot closer than I was to my dad.  So, I feel this sense of shame… why can't I move on?  Why can't I let go?  Why can't I just be fine?  When will I feel like myself again?  Will I ever?  Or am I forever changed now?

I think about the scene in Harry Potter, when Harry sees the Thestrals pulling the carriages for the first time to Hogwarts.  They were always there, but he was never able to see them until after he had seen death.  What an accurate depiction of how differently things are perceived when someone close to you dies… something you can describe but no one else will quite understand unless they're put in a position to be able to see it themselves.  We live in secret clubs but it's hard to find the other members.

Visiting in Dreams

I had a dream about my dad last night.  It's been a good while since the last time it's happened.  The last time it happened, it was during the summer, when I was feeling especially lonely and overwhelmed by life.  We were sitting on a bench at a picnic table.  He grabbed my arms on either side of me and said, "Connie… know how much I love you."  And then his body fell onto mine as he lost control of his mobility and I had to help him sit back down.  It was a feeling that was familiar to me in my real life, a feeling I suppose has become ingrained in my subconscious.

Last night, it was a little bit similar.  He was mad at my mom for buying a new car (my mom just traded in her car).  He came walking, fumbling, towards me and told me he loved me before wrapping his arms around me.  I wasn't sure if he was actually hugging me or had just lost his balance.  Again, that familiar feeling of holding someone who couldn't hold himself up…. it felt so real.  I think that's what people mean when they say certain people come to them in dreams.  I never really experienced that before.  Sure, I've had dreams of people before, but never of someone who left such a tangible impression…. as though the memory of him in my dream was just as potent as if I had seen him in person the day before.  It's different than just the mere action of remembering…. I can think of my dad, in his final days, and that image becomes more faint… but the image of him in my dream is clear as day, now, and it's an incredibly strange phenomenon.  Was he there?  And if he was, where is he now?

I also dreamt that I had moved to Oregon.  I was surrounded by forest and art and peace.  I woke up wondering, "What if?"