Let Go

Have you noticed how every time you make a plan for your life, everything changes? Things are going smoothly, so I begin planning what I ‘m going to do to further myself in the coming months, and a wrench gets thrown into the works…or 6. Its been a trying year already, but if its taught me anything so far – its to let go. You need a lot of trust and faith, but nothing beats that feeling of relief knowing that it is out of your hands and you are being led down the path you are meant to go.

The only way I can think to explain it properly is to imagine you’re walking off the edge of a cliff. As you fall, some times slow and gentle, others a speeding screaming dive bomb where you feel you’re going to crash and burn; you still know you won’t touch ground until you’re meant to, and someone is waiting to catch you from your fall. It’s a freeing feeling.

Its scary as all hell letting go and trusting blindly that everything is happening to make you a better person and get you on the path you need to be on, but at the same time I really have not felt as much relief and peace in a very long time, if ever. I know my life is in good hands, if from nothing else, the amazing people who have been introduced into it.

Baby Steps

What do you do when you don’t know what to do? When you don’t know who you are? What if you’ve only just now begun to realize you’ve never truly been yourself. Who are you? Do you even know?

Forget for now the day to day worries of whether or not deadlines are met and if bills are paid. Think about who you want to become. Think about who you are right now at this very point, think about who you want to be half a lifetime from now, and think about who you’re going to be in getting there.

I’ve only begun to see how repressed I’ve forced myself to become. For silly and ridiculous reasons. Even the smallest things about myself I would lie instead of let people know the truth, because I was afraid of how they’d react. I’ve always sought other people’s approval. I needed to make sure I wasn’t going to be the person to let them down. I made sure I was something I’m not.

Only just recently has it struck me that I’m not happy. I’ve changed from the person I used to be, though still existed even though it remained hidden, and while I’m inwardly realizing that things aren’t right…instead of brushing it aside and dealing with being unhappy, I say nothing. So far the only time I’ve really spoken up is to get myself out of a long and unhealthy situation. While that’s good, I know, that’s it. In a little over a month, that’s it.

Instead of bubbling and full of life and a carefree happiness, I’ve become still. The giddy thoughts that once were coursing constantly through my veins have all but ceased completely, and instead I’m left with nothing but questions. Other people’s opinions of me means a bit less than it used to, but I’m still intimidated to have a voice of my own and be heard.

Baby steps.

Sarah Orne Jewett

I've been reading this novella titled The Country of the Pointed Firs by Sarah Orne Jewett, and I've come across one particular quote that is stuck in my mind and I can't fully grasp the interpretation of it. Here's the paragraph for context, I'll bolden the line that I'm stuck on:

"At last I had to say good-bye to all my Dunnet Landing friends, and my homelike place in the little house, and return to the world in which I feared to find myself a foreigner. There may be restrictions to such a summer's happiness, but the ease that belongs to simplicity is charming enough to make up for whatever a simple life may lack, and the gifts of peace are not for those who live in the thick of battle."

I can understand the meaning when referring to difference between the bustling unfriendly battle-field of city life, but I feel like there's a deeper meaning to it that i can barely reach with my fingertips, and I just can't quite grasp it. 

I'll take a look again in the morning to see if a good night's sleep does my thinking any good....

Cat Stole Your Tongue

They always say that talking about your problems is supposed to make you feel better.  You need to get it out of you before it becomes harmful.  What if you've got no one to talk to?  Or, better yet, what if you aren't allowed to talk to anyone?  I'm not one who generally likes to talk too much about everything anyways, but now that I have something to get off my chest, I can't say a word.  Its the worst feeling in the world.  The need to express yourself and verbally get across everything you've been bottling up all this time, but you can't find any words.  Even if you eventually did, who is there to listen?  If you do reach out and find the words to tell anyone, there's that big fat elephant in the room just lurking in the corner every time you see them after that.  All of a sudden, that's all you have to talk about anymore, but you can't, because you feel like the overbearing open book.  Then, you can't talk to anyone because you realize your every move is being documented and misconstrued.  Before you know it, you end up writing obscure posts such as this because there is no other safe way to say anything.  How sad is it that an obscure blog post has become more personal and private than a journal?  Yes, just about anyone searching for it can find my post, but those who know of my journal and want its contents pose a greater threat since unabriged and descriptive thoughts get added almost daily.  Obscurities have their advantages when you're in this situation, and while I've still somewhat got the ability to, I might as well talk.

Constant Stress

It's hard to bottle everything up
And just wait patiently.
To keep everything locked up tight,
Just where its supposed to be.


To betray everyone
Saying you're alright,
To be the one who doesn't
Get sleep at night.


To keep everyone safe
From those thoughts running wild.
To protect them all,
Even though you're the child.


They treat you as if 
You're completely naive.
But you've learned from them
Quite well how to deceive.


So lonely you stay,
In that small little space.
On the outside of you
There is hardly a trace.


Naive they will remain,
And you'll be just fine.
Until that bottle bursts...