Who Am I?

…these thoughts progressed from previous post Future Fear.

If my thoughts and feelings don’t define me
Who am I then?

Decades spent living within my head,
To not be caught up in that
To not be entangled by inner monologue
Is as foreign a concept as living on an alien planet
Who am I then?

Perhaps the question is irrelevant
Who will I be then?

Perhaps I will be able to find myself
Able to consider and explore options
Discover parts of myself that were cowering,
Fearful of the snarling future
Who will I be then?

I will be
Who I am now
Deep down inside
All that which makes me
All the humanness will survive
How will I be then?

I will let go of the confusion
And the distracting static
All of the sticky,
Brain path clogging,
Muddiness.

I will find myself
In others
In my choices of relationship
In my clear thoughts
In the little decisions I make,
Every moment choosing,
Who I want to be.

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[ image from Facebook, original source unknown ]

Stepping Backwards.

The required effort to
Externalise the internal
Share, as isolation rebuttal
Reveal the darkness
Expose lies and truths
All of this drains
Scarce resources
All of this, necessary
The battle for survival
Begins deep inside
Striving for my own life
Sharing for other’s benefit
Hoping for collective strength
Believing that surviving
will be embraced by us all.

Sad News…

It is with a heavy heart that I share the passing away of a great contributor to the WordPress community here. Tricia Bertram died peacefully in her sleep Thursday night. She was a great supporter of other writers and particularly anyone struggling with grief, like I was when we first connected here. 

She had been battling with worsening health over the past year. As sad a day as it was for me today, I am comforted knowing that in some way her spirit will once again be with the two special men in her life, her beloved son and her husband.

At this stage I believe there will be a funeral in Melbourne around the end of this week coming. I will be flying from interstate to attend, and I hope to be able to pass on any words from those who knew her.

Such a caring person. She shared her support as much as possible.

  

Stockholm Syndrome.

This environment is my familiarity
My friend through long association
Warning intentions are long silenced
Pushed back and smothered by
seemingly real existence.

I have embraced my environment
in order to survive
in order to feel some comfort
when there was insufficient elsewhere
Now I cage myself in the familiar
And hope can only be expressed by others
The sweet syrup of darkness,
sticks and engulfs me
Your light is not bright enough to shine through.

(12 May 2016)

Dangerous: A Point Of View.

There is hope and optimism
in the hearts of others
Belief in better days to come
for this person they see occasionally
But they have not experienced
the persistent pressure this body exudes
The depths to which it plunges
darkness and crushing pressure
at fathoms of failure
To let someone else in
would squeeze the last breath from their lungs
before being engulfed by the pitch black,
the cold and creepy,
black skeleton of death.

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This Equation Of Me.

Confident, enough
in myself
with friends I trust
and strangers –
it’s believing
that I contain
something positive to contribute.

To feel at ease
with this me, with
what’s inside
is another matter altogether.
The value of myself, my
comfortableness and
my self-worth, are
other elements
of
the total me,
the
sum
of all the parts.

Before I doubted
myself –
I trusted
this, whole, me.
It was simple
and easy
Until,
I started believing
criticism from others.
It became emotional
and messy.
Not feeling accepted,
not feeling respected,
by others, and
No-one else was there
to put me straight.

It’s taking quite some time
to turn around
ways of thinking
ways of feeling, and
ways of
imagining
me
To understand
just where I am, and
to realise where I was
before.

The power you hold
in the
Creativity
of your mind
to Believe in you
and, to
Create you,
This is magical.

Neither Pride Nor Joy.

  
Sunday was survived. And anyone I choose to discuss this with would no doubt congratulate me, with understanding that to do so is not a failure in any way.

But I hold no pride, nor joy. Even though my focus for the day was solely on caring for myself, the pain of the struggle has taken it’s toll.

I feel wrecked from the push and pull of feelings. Exhausted, from the effort required to maintain a functional human form today. Lost, from the lack of any spiritual connection. And forgotten, from the missing physical contact that comes with closing myself away.

I don’t wish to isolate myself. Keeping in touch with others just consumes more energy than I feel capable of handling. While the influence of depression leads to numerous scenarios, real and imagined, that drag my emotions in disparate directions.

And it’s all shrouded in fear. Wondering if I won’t be able to function tomorrow, because I don’t just bounce back. Concern over the lasting impact the physical and emotional tolls take.

I’m tired of dealing with the crashed feelings. I don’t want to stay down there. The further struggle to pull myself back up is also draining. It creates more feelings of loneliness and exhaustion.

Mostly, I choose not to burden others with this. Because when they don’t understand and don’t know what to say, or how to respond to me, it breaks my heart that little bit more each time.

So many days, I sit here between hopelessness and helplessness. Afraid to move, afraid to aggravate one or the other. Feeling stuck; silent but conspicuous.

Survival is not my choice. It simply must be, no matter how I feel. And so, I mostly feel, little pride, little joy.