these changing years, they add to your confusion
I still battle with being heard. I may always. I grew up in a quiet place that became a vacuum if I spoke, and after a while, I got used to the breathless suppression. I internalized it, and made it the only way to be.
I've been trying to vocalize ever since, trying to find the air.
And even when I do, it doesn't always work.
Two nights ago. Not quite drowning, not quite waving, somewhere in between. I just...needed...someone's arms around me, telling me it was all right, even when I knew it wasn't. I needed something concrete, something...expected.
Didn't get it, quite. Not that I'm surprised. And I sat back and watched things fall farther and farther apart, and couldn't find the words.
And when I did--when I actually asked for help--no one listened.
So, I'm bad at this, I know that. I made plans to shore myself up, remantle, refocus, rebuild my walls, whether I'm using them or not. And then he says, maybe there's a signal we can work out, for when your mood is--off.
And--of course there is, and it's probably even something simple, a word, a phrase, even a certain look--it could be done. Possibly easily be done. But...
That means access.
That's not just letting someone in briefly, then showing them back out, that's giving them a door in and making the choice never to bar it. That means...being open, and visible. That means being seen, even if just by one person.
And it hits me all over again--every time I think I'm growing, I'm healing, I'm living openly...something like this comes up. And I realize how much is still closed down, barricaded, blocked off, bricked over.
Now, I know some parts of me will never come to light. I'm actually comfortable with that. Even those closest to me, who've known me longest, don't know everything. There are things in my past I may never fully understand, and...after a lot of personal work, I've decided, I don't need to keep pushing for revelation.
It's notable enough that between me and my two cousins, spending several years being raised in the same house, we've discovered we have the same gaps in memory for the same exact times. And frankly, we're all agreed--we don't want to know.
But do I want the help? Yes. Do I want to let someone know when the mood's dipping to that extent? Yes. Do I want to let someone see beyond the social mask, see me for me, see the face I can't always perfectly control? That, I'm shying away from. That...is terrifying.
But maybe it's also necessary.
And maybe it's also time. If I can't do this, even this simple a thing--even so much as a code word to give the one who asked that additional heads up that things are going off the rails...then...why am I even bothering being in relationships with anyone?
If I can't walk even those few steps forward...maybe it's time to hang it up again and go back to the cabin on the mountain.
And I don't want to do that. Those I care for, those who care for me, don't want me to do that. And I have made it this far; I am not such a coward I can't keep going. It's been a life motto for some time, after all: it's okay to fall down, just don't stay down. Get up. Keep going.
So...I'll find the way to get up. I'll find the path to walk again. And...I'll let...at least one person know when I'm about to fall down. So that even if they're not close enough to catch me, they'll know where I fell.
Though...I have the strong suspicion that if I do this for one man...there's at least one more who'll want the same thing.
Being seen. I want it. I hate it. It worries me. I'm going to do it anyway.
Wish me luck. I'm going to need it.
I've been trying to vocalize ever since, trying to find the air.
And even when I do, it doesn't always work.
Two nights ago. Not quite drowning, not quite waving, somewhere in between. I just...needed...someone's arms around me, telling me it was all right, even when I knew it wasn't. I needed something concrete, something...expected.
Didn't get it, quite. Not that I'm surprised. And I sat back and watched things fall farther and farther apart, and couldn't find the words.
And when I did--when I actually asked for help--no one listened.
So, I'm bad at this, I know that. I made plans to shore myself up, remantle, refocus, rebuild my walls, whether I'm using them or not. And then he says, maybe there's a signal we can work out, for when your mood is--off.
And--of course there is, and it's probably even something simple, a word, a phrase, even a certain look--it could be done. Possibly easily be done. But...
That means access.
That's not just letting someone in briefly, then showing them back out, that's giving them a door in and making the choice never to bar it. That means...being open, and visible. That means being seen, even if just by one person.
And it hits me all over again--every time I think I'm growing, I'm healing, I'm living openly...something like this comes up. And I realize how much is still closed down, barricaded, blocked off, bricked over.
Now, I know some parts of me will never come to light. I'm actually comfortable with that. Even those closest to me, who've known me longest, don't know everything. There are things in my past I may never fully understand, and...after a lot of personal work, I've decided, I don't need to keep pushing for revelation.
It's notable enough that between me and my two cousins, spending several years being raised in the same house, we've discovered we have the same gaps in memory for the same exact times. And frankly, we're all agreed--we don't want to know.
But do I want the help? Yes. Do I want to let someone know when the mood's dipping to that extent? Yes. Do I want to let someone see beyond the social mask, see me for me, see the face I can't always perfectly control? That, I'm shying away from. That...is terrifying.
But maybe it's also necessary.
And maybe it's also time. If I can't do this, even this simple a thing--even so much as a code word to give the one who asked that additional heads up that things are going off the rails...then...why am I even bothering being in relationships with anyone?
If I can't walk even those few steps forward...maybe it's time to hang it up again and go back to the cabin on the mountain.
And I don't want to do that. Those I care for, those who care for me, don't want me to do that. And I have made it this far; I am not such a coward I can't keep going. It's been a life motto for some time, after all: it's okay to fall down, just don't stay down. Get up. Keep going.
So...I'll find the way to get up. I'll find the path to walk again. And...I'll let...at least one person know when I'm about to fall down. So that even if they're not close enough to catch me, they'll know where I fell.
Though...I have the strong suspicion that if I do this for one man...there's at least one more who'll want the same thing.
Being seen. I want it. I hate it. It worries me. I'm going to do it anyway.
Wish me luck. I'm going to need it.
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