Spinning, spinning and cracking....
Once in awhile fear is in your face, living right before
your eyes, hidden behind an innocent smile, in the love of a mother or in the
disappointment of a husband. True fear, isn’t the monsters from nightmares, or
horror movies. True fear is insanity, the break down of your own reality or worse
the break down of the reality of your own child. True fear is the guilt one feels when each
decision that you make is questioned by your own faith, your own gut, and
your own intuition. True fear is when another’s break down or insanity
starts to seep into your own rational conscientiousness’ and when your spine starts to tingles and the hairs on the back of
your neck are raised in alert to the darkness of your own home and sanctuary,
in anticipation of “what could possible be next?”
This is when God is needed, a belief in something higher, and
a belief in something better, something stronger.
Yet doubt is ever so present, and other negatives
force their way upon your life as one drifts though this galaxy.
Is it not enough to simply be on this ride? Could it be
enough that the ride itself, the travel through this universe is enough of a pressure
on the physical, emotional, mental and spiritual part of our soul? That the
added human stresses, cell phones, multitasking, the wrong foods, lack of both exercise
and healthy mental stimulation and god knows what else can cause a crack in the human psyche? At first
nothing more than a mere chip in the mental shield? After a few bumps it starts as
a slow crack not unlike the splinter in a windshield and the more miles you go
and the more bumps you hit, the deeper and more damaging the crack becomes.
Before you know it your vision is blurred and you have lost sight of who you
are, and where you were going. One can almost see their former selves running to catch up, waving and
shouting “wait, don’t leave me”; in the
dust of ones mental rear view mirror . Sure one could keep trying to
patch the crevice with drugs that warn of far worse damage to your mind and
potential death, or one can reach deep into the soul and do something that at the moment seems impossible, and even wrong, yet you know, really know that your spirit has a clear view of where you are going and that you and the ones that you truely love will be ok.
Is it possible that once the cracks start your mental health can be repaired? Perhaps, if one would only pull over, kick the ego out and let the spirit do the driving.
Is it possible that once the cracks start your mental health can be repaired? Perhaps, if one would only pull over, kick the ego out and let the spirit do the driving.
Fear, True fear is being a parent and realizing that you
failed, you failed THE most important job ever. You failed your child; you
broke your promise to yourself, to God and to your child.
Sure you do... You
know the promise I speak. The one that you whispered shortly after your child
was born, the promise you spoke each time your child’s name left your lips,
that promise to love and protect above all else.
When was the damage done? Where did the tear begin? Was it
in scold, a word or a look that you gave to your kid? Was it the loss of temper
and swat on the ass or the slap of the face of your oh so special gift, or
better yet before conception or shortly there after forgetting that your own body was a
Temple , OR
When was the damage done?
A fear and a failure so deep one could hardly forgive, is
it not a miracle in itself that one can simply see it and know that you failed?
And pray that you and the doctors know what to do with out causing anymore
damage in the psyche shield so that you and your baby can look straight into
the future with clear insight and a speck of happiness to light the way.
As I rewrite and edit this essay, the fear that held its grip on me since the night of this original writing and all that has followed has ebbed and left in its wake a loneliness so heavy and slick that I feel weighed down, struggling to maintain and blinking away the hotness of holding back tears as if I'm standing at the edge of yet another damn burst and waiting again for the rushing water to over take my life and allowing me to bob through the rest of this year like a cork with no direction.
Depression has its roots in all that I've written of late, However I'm better, I feel clear headed, I'm getting into my groove. Its the holding onto "the better" when so much shit is crashing around me, that's the trick, that I'm trying to master...that great balancing act... Spinning those multiple plates on a stick to the voice and rhythm of Dorie's "Just keep swimming, just keep swimming has become my mantra... just keep spinning, just keep spinning...One could only laugh if it weren't so frightful.
I just can't help the feeling of loss. The damage of words, actions, the resentment, the sadness, I'm angry at the disease depression, I hate how it seeps into my writings and poems making once beautiful words ugly, I hate the word depression. I'm angry that is seems contagious and relentless, mindless of the young or old. I hate how it hollows out the eyes and leaves the windows to your soul empty. I hate that I have to deal with this on one level or another with myself and my child, I hate how mental illness makes me angry. I hate how I'm depressed, because my child's depressed, and how it seems to feed on each other. I hate how it casts a shadow on a brilliant day. I hate that I failed my child and family in someway.
Yet, I will not allow fear, anger, or loneliness make me bitter. As I wrote earlier about this trip, this ride, this gift that we have been given. THE chance to be human, to be alive in a vastness so great and filled with wonder, brings to perspective the fragility of humans. Are we not more fragile than a flower?
This journey is intended to be walked through till the end,and together, afterall sometimes we have to carry another and sometimes it is we that have to be carried or even crawl.
The true effect that we have on one another, those dear to us and strangers too, leave behind a warmth and light that will not allow us to dim our own, but we must also remember the damage that we can do to each other with mere words, without empathy, with out regard to ones emotions, with out love and patience, peace and forgiveness we are shallow.
We must be careful of the fragility of being human. Tho' we are made of God's image and star dust, human are we.
As I rewrite and edit this essay, the fear that held its grip on me since the night of this original writing and all that has followed has ebbed and left in its wake a loneliness so heavy and slick that I feel weighed down, struggling to maintain and blinking away the hotness of holding back tears as if I'm standing at the edge of yet another damn burst and waiting again for the rushing water to over take my life and allowing me to bob through the rest of this year like a cork with no direction.
Depression has its roots in all that I've written of late, However I'm better, I feel clear headed, I'm getting into my groove. Its the holding onto "the better" when so much shit is crashing around me, that's the trick, that I'm trying to master...that great balancing act... Spinning those multiple plates on a stick to the voice and rhythm of Dorie's "Just keep swimming, just keep swimming has become my mantra... just keep spinning, just keep spinning...One could only laugh if it weren't so frightful.
I just can't help the feeling of loss. The damage of words, actions, the resentment, the sadness, I'm angry at the disease depression, I hate how it seeps into my writings and poems making once beautiful words ugly, I hate the word depression. I'm angry that is seems contagious and relentless, mindless of the young or old. I hate how it hollows out the eyes and leaves the windows to your soul empty. I hate that I have to deal with this on one level or another with myself and my child, I hate how mental illness makes me angry. I hate how I'm depressed, because my child's depressed, and how it seems to feed on each other. I hate how it casts a shadow on a brilliant day. I hate that I failed my child and family in someway.
Yet, I will not allow fear, anger, or loneliness make me bitter. As I wrote earlier about this trip, this ride, this gift that we have been given. THE chance to be human, to be alive in a vastness so great and filled with wonder, brings to perspective the fragility of humans. Are we not more fragile than a flower?
This journey is intended to be walked through till the end,and together, afterall sometimes we have to carry another and sometimes it is we that have to be carried or even crawl.
The true effect that we have on one another, those dear to us and strangers too, leave behind a warmth and light that will not allow us to dim our own, but we must also remember the damage that we can do to each other with mere words, without empathy, with out regard to ones emotions, with out love and patience, peace and forgiveness we are shallow.
We must be careful of the fragility of being human. Tho' we are made of God's image and star dust, human are we.
