Road To Recovery – Road 7 – Diametric Prose

-Author Unknown

There is a great dichotomy in being, both through injury and in life generally. It’s a give and take that calls to control us and creates the unique experience that is paramount to living as people.

It’s hard though to deal with this, just as the act of being industrious, the desire to build and do works in direct opposition to desire to rest and laze about. Both of these things are essential though, working in tandem to create a reality of balance. Take for instance walking , something I have sought to do since the moment I laid flat on my back on one of those hospital gurneys for the first time. Walking is something I have to avoid and yet it something that comes so natural. The want of putting my foot down and placing weight upon it sits there in the back of my mind as I know that walking could break me. It’s so strange, I am told to rest but in resting I want to get out and be free. A lot of my life has been playing out this way causing this division within myself.

It’s just like what I’ve mentioned before with my lack of motivation, that inability to act causes both stress and anxiety about all that has not been done. I want to do, so the desire itself make manifest when I sit down at the keys and act upon that desire, the problem is the distraction that comes along with that feeling. Back and forth, it’s a fight for balance in my life and each day has to establish its own place on the teeter-totter. It’s this passé-ness that I have trouble with, flowing with the wind of emotion leaves no room for accomplishing dreams.

I think that’s why I have also had so much trouble with visions of myself and what I can and should do. It’s hard to recognsize because the only way inside to reflect and to reflect beings about the pain of what the accident and these last several months have been. These forces that ultimately settle in a true love-hate relationship with the man within bemuddles the rigidly established norms that I had fought so hard to impliment in the first place. It’s not a matter of blame but a desire for order. With everything in flux, and it being not of my own volition, I am left to try and establish something with the piece I have left.

I don’t know when I will feel the normalcy again, and I know I can never go back to the way things were but its the balance within that dicotomy that I desire. The unceasing differences from day to day though are beautiful and fantastic leave me with, for lack of a better term, with no leg to stand on.

To St. Patrick’s Day (Late)

Dear St. Patricks Day,

You know I have always loved you. You’ve been the representation of a culture that has always opened the door for me. From the generation of my grandmother, you have shown me nothing but acceptance, even in the days of my darkest identity crisis. St. Patrick, though I know your history, you represent so much more. Each and every year you come in the midsts of the season of Fasting, but an indulgence in you feels nothing like a sin. It’s an acceptance, a proving grounds of blood ties that I know flows through my veins. It’s the unquestioning nature of this aspect of myself that I find serenity, like a cornerstone on which I can build a future.  It’s in knowing you that I know the lack of my other identities, from their sliding and uneasy nature fall away and I reach that small serenity.
Oh St. Patrick, you are called so well, the holiday of a people’s who live across the sea.  We share in that connection, we share in that praise because we know that we will be together with you at the end of our days.  We can connect, and be free, it’s what this holiday represents to me.
And here are my final words for such an important day, it doesn’t matter where you come from, or where you might be going, it doesn’t matter how much money you make, or how you might be born, as long as we celebrate together, you can become a little Irish too.

Most Sincerely,
Me

That Warm Feeling

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I was recently listening to a story on a podcast about two people falling in love.  It pulled at the heartstrings of mine and even though I don’t like to admit it, it actually made me crave that loving feeling in my life again. Almost as if it was a chink in the armor that I wasn’t aware of, or at least I was ignoring.  It made me feel like if I had a romantic relationship around again, it really wouldn’t be so bad. That I wanted it, that’s how compelling the story was,  it made me feel like love is something I needed because at least from what I heard, it can make you feel like anything before that was not a really the height of the feelings.  My memories tell me that the heights achieved when love is in the air are almost exclusively reserved for love and high achievement.  Now I was thinking, may I need love to make me feel whole.

I know that’s not a right way to think, but I got lost in the habit of doing so anyway.  I learned the lesson on this a long time ago when my good friends (now my ex) laid it out for me. You can’t get into a relationship if you feel like it’s what you need to fulfill you.  If you are doing this because you find some part of your life lacking, then it’s probably not a good reason to.  Relationships should be a complementary influence, not a supplementary one.  If the relationship only fills a particular void or is the missing piece make yourself feel whole then your really only creating one thing, but if you had two whole people, people who may have their problems but are at least working towards fixing them, then you might actually create something more than what you started with.
I’ve honestly taken those word to heart in more ways than one and even though it’s an important lesson it does come with a bittersweet price tag of remembering the one who gave me the advice in the first place.

With each love high comes a love low and with it creates a situation where two wholes might deteriorate into halves.  When you try to multiply anything by a fraction, you get less than before, which is not okay for anyone.  That’s the price of admission to this love game, that if your team isn’t working together or if someone gets hurt you will lose your ability to play as well as you used to.

Anyways, the story continued as the realization of love came much before the confession of it.  I think that was the part of the story that intrigued me the most.  That their love began to grow well before they thought they were able to express it to one another. That each one in their own way was inching closer to that point where their heart couldn’t stand it but they would take small consolations through it all. Small battles as their friendship formed.  I don’t know why that sounds so appealing.  I understand that in this situation you feel like a supernova ready to explode inside of you at all times. The immense weight of it all bearing down on you as you hope and pray for the opportunity to speak but hold off so that you can maintain the peace.

It’s obvious where their story went, the final confession followed by many years of happiness. You usually don’t hear about the alternative, but at least this one gives me hope. The reason behind why these two worked out and that the time they spent forming this relationship outside the confines of romance probably made this work for them.  Who knows really what works, I don’t really think anyone knows with absolute certainty.   Each person needs and wants something different. I can say it is beautiful in that way.

All and all, I’m not looking, I have enough on my plate that I can barely take care of myself let alone a relationship. I’m also not the kind of guy who does this whole relationship thing half-assed. What I do say though is that I’m okay with life taking its own way, I’m not in any rush, and there really is no reason to be.

Stupid Thoughts

I have a bleeding yearning
A picturesque promise of pain
My heart bounds at the notion
That makes me feel all but lame

The stench of love wafts by me
In now the season of death
When our impulse should be to find shelter
And try to eliminate threats

What timing do I have
That these feelings start to well
With no home to anchor
And no way to quell
So they feel like they want to fester
To grow fat in the absence of purpose
It is dangerous
For feelings that were spurned without purpose
Look for a place to attach
Then it is love without meaning
Like a well in a swamp

I hope that in my troubles
That I am able to let this feeling pass
To move towards a future without sorrow
Or chance of relapse

I want to change but to change requires discipline
Discipline to say not to what pains me
To think, measure, and act
I want to strike this balance within me
And not worry about what I may lack

I hope I am busy tomorrow and the next
I hope that I will be stressed
That way when I come across it tomorrow
I don’t have time for it even on my breath 

my breath

To: Love

Dear Love,

I haven’t heard from you in a while, and trust me, I knew after our last encounter we needed some space.

It’s just been strange without you around. I remember you, and I having been inseparable since I first met you around 6 or 7.  You used to play with me whenever I felt lonely or down.  All through school, you accompanied me through my awkward phases and social situations, nagging me in the middle of class, diverting my attention.  I didn’t mind, I always enjoyed myself when you were around even if things didn’t work out as planned. I remember how charismatic you were, telling me stories and tales about others people who knew you and dreams of the future you had with me.  You were always there, pulling at my heartstrings, making me feel the true immensity of being crushed by the unrequited feelings I had in my chest.

Years went by with this persistent feeling, as I got older, our relationship deepened. I came to better understand you.  I took some time in high school to grow on my own without you around, knowing that we would reconnect as old friends when I got back. That period I learned not to lean on you, that I needed to learn to stand on my own two feet without you around. I couldn’t expect you to carry me in the future, especially if I didn’t have anything to give you in return.

Through heartbreak, I found you, through experience and a desire to not make the same mistakes I sought you. I thought you would leave me disappointed again, but this time you came back in spades. It marked a new depth to things, you really got to know me, and I really got to know you.

We were around each other for a while, taking a break every now and again. My college years were full of experiences with you, learning and growing.  It started to feel like this was what growing up and maturing felt like. We hit a groove, a rhythm, an understanding that maybe this would be something that continued without pause.

Then it happened, you and I got into a bit of a disagreement.  It wasn’t something unusual, and normally I would bounce right back, but this last one didn’t sit right with me. I knew we needed some time to figure things out.  I had taken you for granted, and you hit me where it hurt. It became heavy when you were around, and I just couldn’t handle the strain, there was too much memory, too much complication, and too many unresolved feelings.

I realized we couldn’t just keep going on like we used to, that I needed some time away from you. There is no blame to be cast, it just one of those things that happen.  Without you around, I could figure out myself and grow. Part of me knows that if you were around, I would get comfortable and complacent. Part of me believes this is the best for both of us, that one-day things will work out okay. Part of me is afraid you might do the same thing to me again, so I don’t know how much to trust you.

Time will mend these wounds, the experience will overwrite the pain. In the end, I know sometimes you treated me like crap, pushed me into situations where I would be let down, but I don’t regret any of my moments with you because you gave me memories I will cherish forever.

One day we will find each other again when the time is right, we meet like old friends who bump into each other at the supermarket, and without skipping a beat, we will reconnect. Until then I wish you well and hope you are okay. Know that I’m not gone for good, I will figure things out.

I miss you love, and I love you. I promise I’ll come for you again soon.

Sincerely,
Me

 

Hey Chicago Girl

I saw you in my dreams, and it felt like you were almost real to touch, I wish I didn’t have to wake up.

We met in Chicago, a city that I haven’t been in. I just remember all the buildings looking down and in on us, slopped at the top as if they were sinking slowly into the ground.

I can’t remember how we met, might have been on the train, a plane, or maybe in a room. I just remember having to go up to you, wanting to talk and get to know you.

You were much shorter than I was, dark hair and pale skin but kind of verve in your brown eyes that lightened my spirit, no wonder after I was awoken by my cat I decided to go back to sleep to hang out with you.

Oh Chicago girl, you showed me around your neck of the woods, showed me the city you grew up in as we talked and talked, smiled and laughed, getting to know each other.  You had a cool job, and you seemed to have everything together as you moved through the world with a energy and joy. Even though it seemed like moving through a city normally, it felt like an adventure with you.

I didn’t want to leave but I knew I had to, I had the feeling as if I had a plane to catch to go back home.  I got a nagging feeling that I would regret if didn’t at least get to know her name or some way to contact her.  I decided to ignore this call to leave for back home, to spend more time with you in Chicago, squeeze out every last drop.

The night began to decend and we spent more time together. We went through a scary maze with monsters and hung out in the upstairs of a house were we both got comfortable just living life as people came and went.  I got the chance to really look at you and it made me happy, made me feel at ease.

We talked about where I’m from and you were so excited to listen, made me feel somehow exotic.  We swapped stories and ideas, when sitting across from each other.

This is when the my dream broke, and I couldn’t hang onto it much longer. I was sitting across from you but in reality the morning was calling me to awake.  You just sat there at looking at me as I was torn away from my dreams, not knowing what was happening or that I was fighting to stay.

Every moment that pass a little of you crumples away like most dreams, this one sticking with me a bit longer.  I am forgetting the features of your face, the topics of conversation, the building around us and what we were doing. I’m am holding on for as long as I can, this feeling that we shared in a dream.

Maybe I am hopeless but if your out there in the world Chicago Girl, if you are real, I would be love to share a dream with you again.

Love.

I wanted to make a post about love, about the love in the world and how it accents the moments around us to make life beautiful.  I wanted to do this by sitting in front of a computer and thinking about all the way I think I feel about love, and in which way I can remember love.  Inspiration didn’t come to me, stuck with the blinking line after a bad opening paragraph and a couple catchy sentences I figured that maybe if I wait the words would come to me.  It didn’t make sense, though, the idea of thinking about feelings to express how they are leads us nowhere. I could no better explain a sunset to someone who has never seen one, the only way to understand love is to experience it. So I wanted to try my hand at describing how I experience love, maybe then it will make sense.

I have no control over love, of all the emotions that I can deny, put off, it’s the one that’s loudest in my heart. It shouts if I am ignoring it, so loud that until I take the time to recognize it, I can’t think of anything else. It’s a feeling that extends through me, electrifies me, and gives me strength to tackle anything the world throws at me.

Love keeps the light on in my soul. A light which illuminates the dark and the sometimes cruel world. It allows me to see what the creatures are in the darkness; hurt souls looking for closure.
Love is the part of me that provides a safe haven from the dark.

Love is in the hand I extend, the one that bandages the wounds, guides the way, and offers aid.  It’s cut, scarred, and bruised but is always is extended waiting for someone who needs it.
Love is the part of me that feels compassion and wants to raise the world up.

Love is the well settling in my chest, one that’s full to the brim with pure water on the cusp of spilling over.  All it takes is an ounce of love, and the water will pour out onto the world around me.  It’s the smiles, laughs, and tender moments between people that have filled it to the brim, and wants to help share it with the world.
Love is the part of me that wants to share the wonders of the world.

Love is my eyes that see the world and its beauty. It sees the clouds coalesce in the sky making magnificent portraits that last for a moment. It sees the smiles on people faces, the light in their eyes, the silent moments between two that can only be expressed if you know what it is like for the whole world to disappear.
Love is the part of me that sees all that is good and holds out hope.

Love is in my grin, the one that I can’t help to have. It forms without me knowing or against my stern demeanor. It’s the smile that extends out from me touching the world around it. It’s love that gives me boundless energy to live life to the fullest.
Love is the part of me that is happy and spreads joy and zeal.

Love is in the wrenching feeling that I get in my gut when I see someone in pain or having a hard time.
Love is the voice that calls out and wants to know if they are okay. It’s in the words that speak the truth in that I would do anything to stop their pain, even if just for a moment to reignite the flame in their heart.
Love is the part of me that feels empathy for others and drives me to action.

Love is the intense feeling of wanting to connect, to wash away the pains of the world, to start each moment anew.
Love is what crushes me, compels me, and cages me.  It’s a feeling that is complex, with each iteration of it feeling slightly different than the last.  Of all my feelings its the one that wants to walk beside me.
It hurts, and it heals, that is love, a contradiction.I think about love.

I reflect on love; I consider whether or not it is real, or just some organic byproduct or if that even matters.
I know love is great and horrible. I know love is a catalyst for these intense feelings, and crazy notions.  It’s a big part of me; I can’t explain what compels me to love.

I love the world and people in it and I would do anything for love.

A Touch of Solitary

Dark nights, blank walls, and quiet rooms. I find myself here frequently. It’s a yearning for interaction, a desire to connect that settles within my heart like snow in a snow globe, just waiting for me to shake things up.

I grew up learning not to rely on people. I learned that all I needed were the worlds that I created for myself as a barrier to keep out the chill. I chose not to involve people with the goings on in my life, and it made things simple.
As I’ve grown older, I realized that it was unsustainable. Eventually, I had to venture out and face the world.  This is partly because of my aspirations, and partly because I, unfortunately, was exposed to the alternative to my fantasy, reality; given experiences that provided me then unknown satisfaction.

It’s been ramping up, my desire to connect with people, with each year that passes. I am a mixed breed of one part introvert and one part extrovert which makes things complex. I want to stay home and work, but I crave the adventure of conversation that awaits around every corner.
People are important in my life; it’s a fundamental part of myself that seeks out these relationships. Each one is providing me a key ingredient for getting through the week. It’s within them that I get to enjoy deep conversation, talking about controversial issues, conversing about the basic building blocks of the human condition

I don’t know how much is enough, or when I will be satiated with interaction but when I am not purposefully alone that I feel the chill and pull to going out and connecting.  I do take time for myself when I need it,  but it’s like going to a cafe; when you are there alone on purpose, it can be a sweet relief but when you are waiting for someone to come it can be awkward and nerve-wracking.

Life has taught me something; I can’t expect these relationships to appear out of thin air either.  If I want something I have to ask for it; people won’t simply know I need it. Last year I had expected it all to come together without any effort, which leads me down a lonesome road.  This year I know that I want to work for what I want and how important these relationships are to me.

So, to end this, I want to say that thank you all for the conversations we’ve had, the stories that we’ve told, and the experiences we’ve shared. You all are important to me in different ways, so know that you make a difference. I hope to see you soon.
And to all the people I haven’t met and talked to yet, I am thrilled to make your acquaintance.

Nostalgia: A Pain I Can’t Get Rid Of

Dreams, I have been having dreams filled with people and things I don’t want to think about. The problem is not that they are bad dreams, quite the contrary, the dreams are so beautiful they hurt to have.

The thing that comes to mind is the idea of nostalgia, what I remember is a small speech from the show Madmen talking about its meaning.  It’s explained that it means a pain of an old wound. It is the combination of the two ancient Greek words meaning pain and homecoming. It was a description originally used to explain the feelings of Swiss mercenaries fighting away from home.  It’s a sense of melancholy that I can’t escape.

This pain that I’ve gotten used to, a hurt that will go away as long as I don’t think about it but I can’t help but think about it. The wound is in my heart because it just wants to go home.  I have lost the home for my heart; I had given my heart away and when it was returned to me it was a foreign object.  It didn’t fit; it was treated warmly, but I didn’t know how to handle own heart. So it yearns for that, the cozy, comfortable space in which it grew.

My heart and I are attempting to understand each other.  We were apart for so long that we know that we have to spend some time together. I get familiar with what my heart wants and needs; the problem is the memories engraved on my heart.  The memories repeat the experiences of when it was treated well, when it was happy, when it was hurt, and when it was sad.  Like a record replaying over and over growing increasingly quiet as time goes on.

It’s the great unraveling of things, the desensitization of spirit.  The memory that begins as a situation and starts to turn into a story.  It hurts because of the memories and feelings of being so close for so long will eventually become nothing more than words.  The great human experience calls for us to keep moving forward if we want to survive and thrive.   So the memories will fade, and so will the pain. But it’s this feeling of nostalgia that allows me a glimpse of the experience, and is all that is left, but I know that too will erode with time becoming a memory of memory.

My mind and my heart are having a hard time with that; I can honestly say that it’s a pain that means something to me.  My heart is telling me its time to heal, telling me to wait until I am ready, it’s emptying out it contents, pain and all.

The pang of nostalgia.  I can’t get away from it, and the best thing to do is to have the feeling. Each one an echo of its former self.   Sometimes I want to deny the pain, the hurt so that the memory and feeling will linger a little bit longer, but I know that I have to let go. One day it will be gone, and my heart will be filled with other memories, but until then all I have are my dreams that are so beautiful they hurt.

Armchair Kind Of Love

Can I just love from afar?
Never actually having to go through with it all.
Just to watch the world run on love, without having to participate.

I can tell you the in and outs of love.
The way it works.
The way it will make me feel.
I love my friends and my family, but that other kind of love is the worst.
I’ve known love already, so why does it ask me to get more familiar with it.

Is it a need, or just a want?
If I fast for long enough will the feelings just go away?
Because then I can enjoy just being on the outside of it all.

I can really do without all these feelings.
All these programmed things in my brain and body that call to me.
It screws with intentions.
It doesn’t let things just be as they are, calm and straightforward.
I just want to go on knowing what they the impulses are without them getting in the way.

Why are they having so much fun?
Those people in love over there?
Is that how its suppose to work?

Maybe I am missing something.
Maybe I have forgotten something.
Maybe I am getting something wrong about love.
Maybe I have to get out of my armchair.
To learn from love again.