but still, I've got to get out of this place
'cause I don't think I can face another night
where I'm half sick of shadows
and I can't see the sky--
everyone else can watch as the tide comes in
so why can't I?
It's been a bumpy morning so far, and it started last night.
[02:23] Second Life: Your object 'Object' has been returned to your inventory lost and found folder by you from parcel 'PRIM BONUS LAND - NO MORE OBJECTS' at Good Day Sunshine 133, 239.
This is what happens when we build while tired. Oops.
Though I admit, there's heavy irony in building something--by sanction of the sim owner--on something explicitly labeled "NO MORE OBJECTS".
and you were there when I
built my tower like pebbles in the rain
trying to balance all that I had left
with what I didn't have anymore
Most of it, I honestly feel, comes down to interrupted sleep, and almost nil social interaction. I'm working on both, but I admit, I'm pouring heart and soul into the sidewalk project currently, so even if I got offers to socialize, I'd likely turn them down.
If I'm in world--and I'm not at the sales office--I'm generally building. I may take brief small breaks, just to breathe a bit, but then it's back to working or sales.
and would you tear my castle down
stone by stone
and let the wind run through my windows
'til there was nothing left but a battered rose
On the other hand, this is also what I do when I'm wounded. I withdraw. I push people away. I make excuses, I turn aside, I make jokes, I fall apart only when alone and unobserved.
I'm not saying these are good ways to interact, either with myself or with the world. It's just how I am.
we need a helping hand
we have lost our touch
if his shadow appears
we're going to fall apart
I mean we got addicted long time ago
but that spooky, old giant won't withdraw
In the meantime, still dealing with tower metaphors, because I'm still rebuilding. I may be for some time.
(Tower card from the Legacy of the Divine Tarot deck.)
"In a moment, it is over. The Tower is rubble, only rocks remaining. Stunned and shaken to the core, the Fool experiences grief, profound fear and disbelief. But also, a strange clarity of vision, as if his inner eye has finally opened. He tore down his resistance to change and sacrifice (Hanged man), then broke free of his fear and preconceptions of death (Death); he dissolved his belief that opposites cannot be merged (Temperance) and shattered the chains of ambition and desire (The Devil). But here and now, he has done what was hardest: destroyed the lies he held about himself. What's left is the bare, absolute truth. On this he can rebuild his soul." (from the http://www.aeclectic.net/tarot/">Aeclectic Tarot site)
It's not just that the tower has fallen. All the hopes and dreams, all the lies and self-aggrandizing claims, all of it rubble--that's not the important thing. I have fallen before, I have rebuilt before, I will do it again, I am doing it now.
That's not the point.
The point is that this is the first time I'm trying not to rush through things. I am very much past good at spackle and picture-hanging, obscuring damage with a fresh coat of paint and a trailing hand gesturing towards the view. "Look, it's so much better now, you can see the ocean from the clerestory window." Ignore that the structure is sinking beneath the sands and the foundation is broken...
I will swallow
if it will help my sea level go down
I'll take a deep deep breath
but I'll come back to haunt you if I drown
And this is both a new and fresh boon, and the thing that's driving those around me mental--because progress in slow steps looks exactly like stagnation and lack of any forward momentum, at times, from the outside. And I can't seem to find the words that I need to tell them I'm still working on things, save...to say I'm still working on things.
I want to apologize to everyone, but at the same time, I have to move slowly. Carefully. There's a lot of damage, and I'm dealing with it on my own. Those who love me can support me--and are--but at the end of the day, it's just me inside the same head. I've said this before, but it doesn't stop being true.
I need to know that this isn't going to be another wrapping of broken limbs while I push myself to get back to life at large. I have to take the time it's going to take. I have to heal. And I heal slowly, I always have.
etiolation emphasized by merry thoughts
once broken by
oh, brighter to have never loved
than gather ghosts of the blinding
relentless sun idealized in you--
And it may go without need of speaking it, that I am not used to this. It sends me spinning on occasion, off-balance, but--even that, I have to accept, and take in stride. I will have bad days and good days; I am healing. I will have stable days and unstable days; I am healing. It's just that there's nothing I can point to, no outward sign, and even I do not know if I'm getting better, or getting worse, and I won't until I'm on the other side of it.
I'm moving yet, but am I moving down or up? I don't know. This is such a precarious position to be in.
so you've returned to lengthen my shadow
to once again shatter my windows...
And yes, it is like this. Yes, I wonder if I've made mistakes, am continuing to make mistakes. Yes, I wonder on the what ifs. Yes, I worry that whatever I'm evolving into will be something harder and harsher and stranger, and maybe someone less able to love, and be loved.
I can't help that. I am trying to talk, and stay open, and still heal, and still move, and...it's so tiring, it's exhausting, and it's never over, and won't be for some time to come.
you were my everything
my apparitional faith
where are you when I am screaming to my God
what am I coming to
But there's nothing else I can do. I have to do what I feel I can, I have to heal as best I can, and tell myself that, while "normal" people may not see things at night, it's not as if this is new territory for me, and if it is a sign of some deeper trauma, then we'll deal with that when we get there. No one's dog is telling me to kill people. Angels inside my head aren't telling me to hurt my family. In that, at least, my hallucinations are harmless and (mostly) non-traumatic.
(I could do with less bugs on the walls.
(But we move on.)
out of bed I creep
to climb this tower of shame
but the hour's still the same
only madness knows my name
Because that is the current rock I'm clinging to, these days, the aphorism that states, If you think you're going mad...you aren't. Because mad people don't know they're mad.
And I am rather desperately hoping that's true, as I watch leaves flicker into characters on trees, and read words that aren't there on the metal railing above my bed. I am really, really hoping this is just a phase, and when I'm more stable, when I'm better, all this will stop.
if I had another place to go
would you break me? is it that you know
I have no choice but to rebuild again
I'm tied so hard I can't remember when
I last walked free upon these feet of mine
And do I have a choice? I've made the choices I've can, and I may yet move to make more, but--right now, this is what I've got. Even if it's a small circle of earth between my feet, this much is clear. And I will widen my territory as I can, and allow in those I can trust, and it will feel less like standing still and more like recovery.
Day by day. Hour by hour. Moment by moment, if I have to. I am not dead yet. So I'm not down.
(Lyrics taken from Emilie Autumn's Shalott; Emilie Autumn's Castle Down [first & second selection]; Bel Canto's Shimmering, Warm & Bright; Emilie Autumn's Swallow; Faith & the Muse's Sparks; Faith & the Muse's Patience Worth; Emilie Autumn's Castle Down again; Emilie Autumn's 4 O'Clock; and one last time, Emilie Autumn's Castle Down.