Things have been intense and overwhelming lately. Some good, some bad. That’s not the point.
The point is: How many times do we have to hit the bottom? Is survival enough?
“Surviving is all we have to do sometimes sweetheart” K told me this morning on the phone, when I finally allowed myself to cry out the truth inside.
I lost a gig that I wanted with all myself. It broke me into pieces.
Well, to be honest, I though it was the gig – but when the painkiller shroud I covered myself with wore off, I realized it wasn’t really the gig; it was my need for something more than survival that broke me into pieces again – I wonder if I ever put the pieces back together in first place – but that’s all another story.
I silently signed a non-disclosure agreement with pain, or frustration, or disappointment, or emptiness (and not the emptiness my zen teacher talks about – I am way too far from that).
I decided I wouldn’t feel it. And for just about the time to hit the ground I did not.
Why would I choose to feel the failure and the shame? (You might argue with the concept and context of shame, but that’s how it felt, together with a million of other unwanted emotions)
It was almost noon, and my filthy hair smelled smoke from the night before – to be mild and spare you the unecessary details – I spent 80 dollars on a new bottle of Chanel just a few days ago and I let myself rotten in a sweaty bed? – I thought.
My bed sheets are cherry-silk, but it don’t count if they are crinkled with blood and guilt.
They smell sin, another summer gone bad.
It was almost noon when I decided to use my hands and write down the hurt, even if only on the keyboard of my broken BlackBerry – I knew he would feel it, I knew he wouldn’t judge.
He wouldn’t cuddle me either, but I didn’t need to be cuddled.
I needed truth. He gave it to me.
It wasn’t pleasant, but it made me feel less alone.
I got up and poured myself some more coffee.
That’s when I called K on his new cell phone.
Now I just need to go back to surviving again, I guess.
But the bottom line is: if this post reaches just one of you out there in the eye of the storm, I truly want to believe what I’ve been told: nothing that happens is ever in vain.