Fate Is Knocking At The Door.

It has been 10 years since this thing took over my life. For 10 years, I've been numbing myself from this pain. No, not managing it - just numbing it. I used to actually believe I'd get better - that I'd heal.

For a year or so, the plaque did clear up leaving hyper-pigmented shades that I wore proudly like war wounds. Over time, I began to put my old self together again; and how strange a feeling it was to try and be that "unwounded" dreamer who aspired to travel, play music and experience all the magic that life once seemed to offer. But the harder I tried to feel normal, the more I realized that things could would never be the same.

People couldn't see the skin peeling off of my body anymore. There were no more large inflamed patches to stiffen my body in the morning or silence a seemingly normal conversation when it exposed itself. My body had healed but my spirit was ripped to shreds and I didn't know how to put it together.

I spent last summer traveling around the U.S. and to my horror, the strange and sad vastness I knew during my illness had permeated everything I drove past and looked at.  It was in the thick ocean fog that followed me down the Pacific Coastline, and in the immense heat that burned from Bakersfield all the way to the deep purple skies hovering over New Mexican desert after sunset.  That dullness hovered over the dead silent fields of Central Texas all the way to coolest hipster-cowboy scene in Austin. It swam in the empty and eerie beaches of Galveston. I had changed and I had arrived to late.  I arrived at these places as someone other than I had thought I would be...someone that I had never wanted to be.  

10 years of numbing the pain and I'm just supposed to be okay again. The pain of watching my body deteriorate has not faded away. All the years of numerous rushed doctors visits, explanation of prescription side effects and preparing to be disappointing over and over again has killed whatever spirit of God and whatever beautiful wildness I thought existed inside of me.

It didn't matter that I was walking through the French Quarter on a humid and wet Monday night to the sound of a the tune of a lone saxophone or that I was in Hurrican Mills, Tennessee walking through the tour bus used in Coal Miners Daughter. By the time I reached Biloxi, I barely spoke.  That sadness had silenced me and it silenced the music inside of me.  If I had to guess, that part of me that was once able to see beauty in everything died on some insignificant morning while I was sweeping up the pile of dead skin that fell on the floor from the night before.

In Maine, I watched a somber group of family and friends gather at a waterfront park on a cool Sunday afternoon to remember the husbands, sons, girlfriends and neighbors lost in battle. I looked on for a long time - reading the faces of each person. I tried the hardest I could to feel grateful to be alive but there was just a vast emptiness. I can't help be feel like I'm still out there in all those places; I'm like the dying rural towns in the middle of nowhere and the wind haunting the shores of the darkened Gulf.

And though I am trying to move on, it is without feeling this immense loss of life. To avoid being completely useless, I've gone back to school and am making plans to build a family with a wonderful man. But after that trip across America to now - that strange and sad vastness has returned and manifested itself in my body again. My P is back and it's even worse. Some days I cannot get out of bed because no matter what I tell myself.

I can't shake this feeling. And I'm horrified that it will never change.

That fate...that doom that is knocking on the door... like the wretched 4-note motif in Beethoven's fifth that echoes over and over - desperately needs a resolve and it has not come. I don't know if any physical healing will resolve it. I still don't what to do to off-set this darkness. I don't know how to put it back together. I don't know how to keep going.

That extreme self-doubt is still here. The self-hatred is here. The void is here. I want so much to trust again, to love fully and feel all of life. But I'm scared none of it exists. I'm scared only this pain exists.

I don't want anyone to feel sorry for me.  I just want those out there who know exactly what I'm talking about, those who feel the way I do, those who see life but cannot live it because they are still trapped in their body, their torment and their disappointment...

Those who have it so bad that they find themselves more interested in thoughts of ending it all for good - PLEASE JUST HOLD ON.

I'm holding on.  

And if you read this and you know what I'm talking about...if YOU ARE WHAT I AM TALKING ABOUT than you also know that letting go makes you ******* selfish...so don't do it.

Just hold on for the tormenting minor key to change. It will change. It has to.  Just hang on. 

deliaohdelia deliaohdelia
26-30, F
Jan 28, 2013