Twilight
I feel through these dark spaces, wandering, not quite lost, one space and then another. I am afraid to place this weight where it will sink another. I tiptoe, lightly. I am reaching to express the few sunbeams that remain. Say the right thing, show the right thing. Flashing smiles and trite expression. Nothing else is welcome here.
And in the dark, I feel myself. This ink that is so palpable. Sinking, swirling, those eddies of blue and midnight. I am alone.
There is anger is some of this. Why can't anyone hold this but me? Why are so few able to walk these shady places with me? A few profess to only speak of positive things. I feel myself sneer at them, not exactly wishing them to understand. Am I just meant to travail alone? Does everyone travail alone? These inner workings, these midnight spaces.
Life for me is exorbitantly heavy. I did not choose it so. There is loss and there is heartbreak in one destined for music, then losing her way; when she finds herself, now raising a child of dual disability and walking paths unknown to so many. And now I go underwater, because no one wants to know. Everyone shies in the face of a sad moment, or a more pensive thought. "What will I say? Do I know how to handle this?" You seem to ask, as a myriad of emotions flits across your face - resistance, repulsion, fear...what if it touches you next? Shoo away to any depression. Be gone that "negative" thought. You think, You cajole, you flip things to a more laughing note. Only happiness is welcome here. The rest of it all, is too heavy. The rest is too much, too dark, too oppressive. No one needs that. They only want to be around that which is nice and light and funny.
I reach for funny, always falling a bit short. I think if it weren't for my blond hair, and blue eyes, my beauty that allows me to walk in typical places, I would be cast out entirely. I fake at happy. I fake at lightness and shallow expression. Shallow, shallow, always skimming the surface. That's what you want now, isn't it? Don't tell you a story that you can't respond to, you say. You might skitter away you say, because it's not fun and it makes you uncomfortable.
And then no one can hold these things. I struggle to carry this boulder alone, heavy, weighty, rough. I wish to set it down, or tell just a piece of it. But no one wants that. These chthonic musings, this depression that seeps through darkened veins. My back aches and my shoulders throb. Shush they say. It will come true if you say anything that isn't nice. Tear stained face, throat that feels constricted. I decry it all - I am overcome in mirth and joviality. That's what you wanted anyway, when I lay here writhing instead. I can tell you anything light-hearted and you'll believe me? Really, it's only what I say that matters, not this hurting in my heart. I can keep hiding.
Alone, alone. We are all alone, afraid to be expunged, shunned, labeled. Let's all walk lightly now, this Fred Astaire tap shoe dance. All together now, in step, smiles painted on, like joker faces and eyes dotted with sparkle. That's all; that's ok. That's all you wanted any way.
And one by one the ranks thin, a tap shoe-er fallen and unable to get up. Throw a blanket over them. They won't live through the night but we will keep dancing, this crazy mixed up tune, a little delirious but none the wiser. Life is easier when you skim so lightly, tread so delicately. We are shells of what we might have been.
Let's not look at anything very fully. To do so would expand and hurt. Hurting is wrong you say? Avoid pain and never let someone in who would cause more. Venting, jealous, light. Emotions that are accepted and those that aren't. Learn the difference. Choreograph the rest. Don't let in anything that is too clunky, or thunky, because that won't work. The stage might dent and we all might shift. That can't happen.
I scorn your reactions. I resent your ability to keep this light dance when I stumble, here, in the dark, carrying weights beyond my ken, beyond the strength of my thin arms. I hate your ability to trip so lightly. Would that it were so for me. You can avoid a label? Pretend all is well? Good for you, my friend. Good for you! And I have not such the luxury. Life has thrown me in so many pits of quicksand and tar. But I fight my way out, alone, getting stronger each time, leaving your paltry expressions and your shallow dance behind. I will find a way without this Pollyanna rhyme you seem so fond of exalting.
Sometimes life is heavy and it sucks and it's so hard, that I am afraid to take another step, to keep going. But I do and I can and I must. And maybe you feel that way too, but you delude us both to pretend all is not. Say the perfect thing to me, pretend you don't see the pain in my heart that's so heavy it might break you. Are you afraid? Are you scared to touch it? Afraid it might taint your own life? Did you know sharing a burden makes it lighter? When o when, might you be brave enough to hold this piece of me? And I of you? Because in sharing we grow and we evolve. But no! You are terrified of that. It's easier to forget I exist.
I hope you hold more today and maybe a little more tomorrow. Let it carve your heart, just a tiny bit. Shoot, of course it hurts! My inner places hurt more than I knew was possible. But I keep holding, keep reaching out. Because if we don't, we leave some behind. There's beauty in helping someone. There's beauty in taking a piece of the pain. Let your fear ease now. If you touch it, you won't surely die. If you help unravel these places within both of us, you won't be lost forever. You will just see more. Hear more. There's something more complete in our human experience if we nourish each the other, not afraid to be consumed. Because nothing can truly consume you, unless you are alone. Being alone makes it so much harder, but in sharing and living and loving and holding, there's a communal growth, and evolvement.
Will you, just this once? Take my hand...listen to my story. I will listen to yours. Listen without judgement, without advice, without needing to say anything much at all. Could you just say, "I hear you. I see you. Your pain is real. Your struggle is heavy." And leave it there? There's no need to say more. There's no need to be some super person, saying exactly the right thing. You don't know what to say to me? But I don't know either. However, sitting together in these spaces, in silence, in holding, I feel less alone and you will too. You might walk outside tomorrow morning, after the dark has faded, and realize the sun has more golden hues, the grass smells more richly and the trees feel more magical, taller, because of what you felt in those dark spaces, I with you and you with me.
Therein lies support and love. I am reminded of an axiom of my childhood...rejoice with those who rejoice and mourn with those who mourn. Maybe it's a bit of emotional homeopathy, to associate with all of our feelings, all of our emotions, inside of each one of us, and in so doing, bring deep healing.
There is anger is some of this. Why can't anyone hold this but me? Why are so few able to walk these shady places with me? A few profess to only speak of positive things. I feel myself sneer at them, not exactly wishing them to understand. Am I just meant to travail alone? Does everyone travail alone? These inner workings, these midnight spaces.
Life for me is exorbitantly heavy. I did not choose it so. There is loss and there is heartbreak in one destined for music, then losing her way; when she finds herself, now raising a child of dual disability and walking paths unknown to so many. And now I go underwater, because no one wants to know. Everyone shies in the face of a sad moment, or a more pensive thought. "What will I say? Do I know how to handle this?" You seem to ask, as a myriad of emotions flits across your face - resistance, repulsion, fear...what if it touches you next? Shoo away to any depression. Be gone that "negative" thought. You think, You cajole, you flip things to a more laughing note. Only happiness is welcome here. The rest of it all, is too heavy. The rest is too much, too dark, too oppressive. No one needs that. They only want to be around that which is nice and light and funny.
I reach for funny, always falling a bit short. I think if it weren't for my blond hair, and blue eyes, my beauty that allows me to walk in typical places, I would be cast out entirely. I fake at happy. I fake at lightness and shallow expression. Shallow, shallow, always skimming the surface. That's what you want now, isn't it? Don't tell you a story that you can't respond to, you say. You might skitter away you say, because it's not fun and it makes you uncomfortable.
And then no one can hold these things. I struggle to carry this boulder alone, heavy, weighty, rough. I wish to set it down, or tell just a piece of it. But no one wants that. These chthonic musings, this depression that seeps through darkened veins. My back aches and my shoulders throb. Shush they say. It will come true if you say anything that isn't nice. Tear stained face, throat that feels constricted. I decry it all - I am overcome in mirth and joviality. That's what you wanted anyway, when I lay here writhing instead. I can tell you anything light-hearted and you'll believe me? Really, it's only what I say that matters, not this hurting in my heart. I can keep hiding.
Alone, alone. We are all alone, afraid to be expunged, shunned, labeled. Let's all walk lightly now, this Fred Astaire tap shoe dance. All together now, in step, smiles painted on, like joker faces and eyes dotted with sparkle. That's all; that's ok. That's all you wanted any way.
And one by one the ranks thin, a tap shoe-er fallen and unable to get up. Throw a blanket over them. They won't live through the night but we will keep dancing, this crazy mixed up tune, a little delirious but none the wiser. Life is easier when you skim so lightly, tread so delicately. We are shells of what we might have been.
Let's not look at anything very fully. To do so would expand and hurt. Hurting is wrong you say? Avoid pain and never let someone in who would cause more. Venting, jealous, light. Emotions that are accepted and those that aren't. Learn the difference. Choreograph the rest. Don't let in anything that is too clunky, or thunky, because that won't work. The stage might dent and we all might shift. That can't happen.
I scorn your reactions. I resent your ability to keep this light dance when I stumble, here, in the dark, carrying weights beyond my ken, beyond the strength of my thin arms. I hate your ability to trip so lightly. Would that it were so for me. You can avoid a label? Pretend all is well? Good for you, my friend. Good for you! And I have not such the luxury. Life has thrown me in so many pits of quicksand and tar. But I fight my way out, alone, getting stronger each time, leaving your paltry expressions and your shallow dance behind. I will find a way without this Pollyanna rhyme you seem so fond of exalting.
Sometimes life is heavy and it sucks and it's so hard, that I am afraid to take another step, to keep going. But I do and I can and I must. And maybe you feel that way too, but you delude us both to pretend all is not. Say the perfect thing to me, pretend you don't see the pain in my heart that's so heavy it might break you. Are you afraid? Are you scared to touch it? Afraid it might taint your own life? Did you know sharing a burden makes it lighter? When o when, might you be brave enough to hold this piece of me? And I of you? Because in sharing we grow and we evolve. But no! You are terrified of that. It's easier to forget I exist.
I hope you hold more today and maybe a little more tomorrow. Let it carve your heart, just a tiny bit. Shoot, of course it hurts! My inner places hurt more than I knew was possible. But I keep holding, keep reaching out. Because if we don't, we leave some behind. There's beauty in helping someone. There's beauty in taking a piece of the pain. Let your fear ease now. If you touch it, you won't surely die. If you help unravel these places within both of us, you won't be lost forever. You will just see more. Hear more. There's something more complete in our human experience if we nourish each the other, not afraid to be consumed. Because nothing can truly consume you, unless you are alone. Being alone makes it so much harder, but in sharing and living and loving and holding, there's a communal growth, and evolvement.
Will you, just this once? Take my hand...listen to my story. I will listen to yours. Listen without judgement, without advice, without needing to say anything much at all. Could you just say, "I hear you. I see you. Your pain is real. Your struggle is heavy." And leave it there? There's no need to say more. There's no need to be some super person, saying exactly the right thing. You don't know what to say to me? But I don't know either. However, sitting together in these spaces, in silence, in holding, I feel less alone and you will too. You might walk outside tomorrow morning, after the dark has faded, and realize the sun has more golden hues, the grass smells more richly and the trees feel more magical, taller, because of what you felt in those dark spaces, I with you and you with me.
Therein lies support and love. I am reminded of an axiom of my childhood...rejoice with those who rejoice and mourn with those who mourn. Maybe it's a bit of emotional homeopathy, to associate with all of our feelings, all of our emotions, inside of each one of us, and in so doing, bring deep healing.
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