There are a million things that we want to do right now, and yet, maybe there’s nothing. Maybe there’s nothing else to do but sit and do nothing. Either way, there are also a million thoughts and ideas in our head. There are thoughts and feelings and emotions. We all have this. Believe me, this is all true. It is simple, and yet, the way we think and the way we feel can be complicated sometimes. We consciously try to consider the options. We figure the math and we do the numbers but we miscalculate the unknown figures to be bigger than they are. We add too much. Yet, there is this entire world around us. And it doesn’t look the same to anyone else. All we know is all we see. I know what I see.
I know what the sunrise looks like. I know what the sky looks like when the dawn takes shape. I’ve watched as the sky shows its first light. I know what it feels like to have a cool breeze hit my face when I walk outside in the morning. I know what it’s like to see things and be fooled by comparisons.
I know what the sweetness smells like in the mountain air—and I know what the beach looks like, even in the dead of winter. I’ve been there before; it’s empty and all there is are the remnants of indented footprints that are left behind by the summer inhabitants. I understand the soft noises of the ocean waves as they tumble into the shore. I don’t know what this sounds like to anyone else. I only know what this sounds like to me.
I know what I see. I know what I think and feel. I understand my personal internalness and deeply, although not always consciously, I know me personally and on a first name basis. I understand the wealth behind my spirit and the old poverty in my heart. I get this now. I should get this by now because I have been at this game for a very long time.
So have you (I suppose).
I suppose we’ve all been here for a long time.
So, maybe it’s time for a talk.
Maybe it’s a good time to stop pretending. Or better yet, maybe it’s a better time to be honest—to call it out—or to tell the truth about our inner-depths and all this entails.
Your weariness is not an accident. Neither is mine, by the way. This means something. I don’t care what anyone says. I don’t care about the people in white coats and their clipboards or their degrees on the wall. I care more about people like us, whose struggles are real—even if the struggles are only real to us. And more than this, we have to honor each step we take. We have to be different and live differently because to us, we have to avoid the ideas that keep us down.
And I get it.
Beauty is a difficult thing—especially when you can’t see your own beauty; or especially when you think you’re ugly, or if you “Feel” or believe as if there is a secret flaw about yourself. All you hope and all you care about is that no one sees you like this.
Take now, for example. I am watching the sun filter through the trees and reach down to the street in front of my home. I am sitting in a chair that is not too different from any regular office chair. It’s black and pretty simple. My chair is somewhat cushioned. I’ve had this chair and this same trusty computer for a long time now. My desk is basic. Nothing is really updated. I am simple. I am perhaps outdated and in need of a few updates but at least I am still here.(Know what I mean?) The surroundings are pretty to me though. Life is pretty but if I’m being honest, sometimes pretty things seem to hurt. Purity can sting people like us. Maybe this is because we’re always wondering, “Am I missing something?”
I am writing this plainly and without any sort of flowering terms to “Pretty” this up. Instead, I wanted to reach out to you in the simplest way.
There is us and then there is the world—or at least this is how it seems sometimes.
This is more than loneliness. This is more than sadness.
This is the stuck feeling. Can’t move.
Can’t see differently.
It’s not an excuse
It’s a feeling.
People say things like, “Ah, you’re just being paranoid.”
But it’s not paranoia. It’s not the same thing as waiting for the impending doom—it’s a reaction. It’s chemical and somehow, there is something in our chemistry that distorts the way we see things.
Also, keep in mind, emotions are chemical.
I wonder though. How many times have people said to you:
“Just don’t think that way?”
Wouldn’t that be nice?
To not think this way???
It’s something in us. It is not a struggle. This is not a fight. And I say this because there is a strategy that I have been looking to master—we have to fine tune this a little each day. We have to make adjustments—and I won’t lie; this is us. This will always be us but we can improve.
We can trust that there will be bad days and off-days but good days can be part of this too. The pretty things don’t have to be painful. Life can be sweet and not bitter.
I can tell you there is a voice which lives in me. Perhaps you can relate to this. Perhaps you have this too.
Maybe you have an internal voice that warns you and doubts you. Maybe you have a series of ideas that keep you from launching your dreams because the voice says “Why bother?” I have been told not to put certain things out to the universe but you and me, — well, we can’t always operate like this because sometimes, our silence is like feeling trapped—and you want to get out. You want to step out from all of this. You want to feel the wind in your face and be like “Ah,” and it’s gone.
There is a word people use all the time and yet, I am not always sure if people really know what this means. The word is depression, which means something to us. (Am I right?) Sometimes, there is this invisible field around us—we can see through it. We can move through it too but still, it’s like we can’t really touch anything because there is a layer over us. We can almost feel, but then again, not really.
You want and you try and you reach and you come close.
You feel and you ache and you drive and you have desire, but yet, it’s hard to keep going. It’s hard to continue. It’s hard and it hurts and it’s tiresome to say the least.
When I was younger, somebody told me, “You have to surrender to win.” This was from an old mentor of mine. He told me, “You can’t keep fighting yourself,” and I knew he was right. At the same time, I didn’t know how to live, think or be any other way. Besides, living differently was an intimidating idea for me. Who would I be if I wasn’t the same person I always believed I was? What would I do if I had to be someone different?
The work I have done has taken me decades and even if it takes me lifetimes, then so be it. However, I doubt that my work will ever be done. I have to keep going. I have to keep moving. I need a challenge. I need a purpose. I need direction. I need action but more, I need to move. I need to do, be, feel and see. Otherwise, the alternative is unthinkable.
They say the best thing for depression is exercise but when the depression hits, —man, it’s hard enough to get out of bed, let alone, exercise or run.
The same thing can be said about heights—they tell you don’t look down, but yet, now that you know you’re not supposed to look down, where do you look?
The power of suggestion is incredible to me. Then again, so are you.
So is your inability to see your beauty. So is your inability to know your worth because to me, you are the most beautiful and valuable thing that I have ever seen—and maybe you need to hear this from someone else. Maybe you need to hear this from someone more beautiful than me. Maybe you need constant reassurance but before this happens, just know, this has to come from within before it comes from any place else.
Make no mistake–
I am writing this for you.
So for now, just breathe . . .
Tomorrow is going to come
And if you allow me
we can face it . . .