Working through my current issues of depression, I’ve been soul-searching, attempting to put a finger on what the underlying issue is. I was reading a fellow blogger’s website earlier and he mentioned getting attuned to the underlying issues and remembering that there is no “fix” but to accept what is and to embrace those failings.
I’ve spent my life unable to share my real thoughts and feelings, when they are too high or too low for society’s standards. Putting on a good face and always smiling even when I’m crying inside. Don’t rock the boat. Don’t make others uncomfortable. It’s always been only through my art and my writing that I’ve allowed myself to show my true colors.
But sometimes those colors spill over into real life. Tainting a picture I’ve carefully set before the world around me. Fighting it at times and, when I can, embracing it. The normal coping methods aren’t working.
As I was thinking about it, I was attributing my depression to recent loss and rejection. I’ve been rejected by friends and potential lovers, among other things. In the big scheme of life, these are mere trifles, insignificant and unimportant. I’ve tricked myself into telling myself “I deserve love” “I deserve happiness” “I deserve acceptance”. But the truth is, I don’t deserve any of those ideas. I might want them, but I don’t deserve them. Love and happiness and loyalty and acceptance aren’t a human right. They are either given or they are not. I’m still a human with or without them.
So perhaps it’s not rejection that’s got me down. Maybe it’s simply wanting things I can’t have and like a little child who doesn’t get their way, I stamp my feet and pout and let the world know of the perceived injustice done to me. I wanted him. He wasn’t meant to be mine. My heart, refusing to give up or believe it, mopes and laments a loss that never really happened anywhere but in my dreams. (And as I pulled back from interacting with him, he did nothing in response, which should clue me in to how little I meant to him to begin with.) Another friendship blossomed quickly and from an unexpected source and I came to rely on him daily but when life swooped in and took him further and further from me, I had to admit I was much lower down his list of priorities than I had hoped.
Pitiful, huh? Pathetic. And that’s when it hit me, I’ve been relying on others once again a bit too heavily. I know the only one I can truly count on is myself. Why did I build those walls so long ago in the first case? Oh yeah. That’s right. Because I am an island. I can count on myself but not on others. It’s my own failing, really. I attach myself to a special few and I cement myself to them. And when they pull themselves free and move on, as is normal in life, I take it personally and have a hard time dealing with the loss. I hold on too tight. And so feelings of rejection settle in. Then depression and sadness. I mourn the loss rather than celebrating what was.
A better way of thinking would be to say, yeah, he wasn’t meant to be yours but his words still speak to your soul nearly every time he picks up his pen. Embrace that. Enjoy what you have of him. And the friendship that was put on the shelf: perhaps it was just what you both needed for that time and perhaps it will pick back up and perhaps it won’t. Let his words of kindness sink into your skin and wrap your mind in the warmth of kindred minds and friendship. Et cetera, Et cetera.
So I’m going to keep repeating to myself that I’m okay and that I’m alright being alone and the tears will continue to fall but there’s no one to see them anyway so… let them fall. And the longing and the loneliness will continue to be my bedfellows but I’ll be alright. This is my lot in life. Love will come and go. So too friendships and acceptance and rejections and happiness and sadness. It’s the human condition. Lift your head, allow the tears to pour from your soul but also allow them to dry as well. And stop looking to others to make you whole or happy. It’s all just an illusion, anyway.
tara caribou | ©2017
Remember those days and nights
when we used to text each other
every minute that we had?
When we shared every little stupid
insignificant thing and it was
mildly embarrassing but still
I did it anyway.
Telling you all the worst parts of me.
I figured if you knew
all the dumb stuff about me
(yeah, so I can’t stand
my feet getting wet *shudder*)
and you still wanted to talk
then maybe we could be friends after all.
But maybe friendship isn’t all I feel.
Maybe I jumped in.
Maybe you make me a better person.
So, I still text you with stupid shit.
But your responses become
fewer and fewer.
Perhaps I overwhelmed you
with my clinginess.
Perhaps you’ve found someone better.
I’ll admit it wouldn’t take much
to attain that particular goal.
(Does she randomly send you
pictures of yogurt too?)
Perhaps I’m too moody and
self-absorbed and obnoxious.
Or maybe life has made you
too busy for me.
That’s okay, I guess.
I can understand.
There are a lot of obligations and
people pulling for your attentions.
Now I’ve become one of those people.
Just another one lining up
for your affections and attentions.
I yearn for you.
So, here I sit.
Thinking of conversations we’ve had.
And conversations I want to have but
I’m still unable to bring myself to ask or
Maybe sometime in the next hour or so,
I’ll cross your mind again.
Maybe, just maybe, you’ll text me.
And bring a smile to my face.
Oh, and PS: I miss you.
I woke up
in the middle of my night
and like always
my first waking thoughts are of
I lay here
for long drawn out moments
and like always
debate sending a message to
I know that
you’re off in some far away land
and like always
life makes you too busy for
I hope that
across your mind I will crawl
and like always
instead I roll over to dream about
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