Waves

 While trying to create a schedule, I spiraled into a painful crying session. My heart aches with such a heaviness sometimes, I feel as if it will swallow me up like a black hole. I've lost too much in this life and experienced too much darkness not to be haunted by it. Ignoring the sadness doesn't make it go away, I tried that. I feel it as the waves comes. Waves of sorrow, pain, panic, violence, suffering wash over my heart and pulls my throat with it. The tightness in the chest and internal panic feels unyielding. I feel it for as long as I can, then, I do have to medicate. The internal struggle ignites. The internal dialogue chastises me for medicating the pain. I don't want to be a drug addict. Am I? 

Down the rabbit hole I fall questioning every thought that comes up. Is this an authentic thought? Or, programming? Are you in touch with yourself? What are you doing with your time, thoughts and energy? Oh yea, I was trying to map out a schedule, which brought about this familiar internal struggle. I have no goals, no guidance, no structure. That is why this has been important to me to create a routine of productivity and creativity so I don't end up in this space of eternal sadness and hopelessness. This space does not serve me, other than to show me how horrible of an emotional state this is, and how deadly it can be. This is the importance of my safe space. A sanctuary to offset the heaviness in my heart. This is the emotional process that is the continuous catalyst for my search for healing and peace. 

In so many ways, I am in the best state I have been in my life. In others, the injuries and scars remind me of dark moments that feels unending. I'm healing, and I am much better for it. I think sometimes I am way too hard on myself. I have overcome so much. I remind myself to enjoy the space I created. I ask if I feel safe, and trust issues are bubbling up. Fear and uncertainty swirl around. If I am truthful with myself, I feel betrayed and resentment is just under the surface. My trust was deliberately undermined, echoing years of dismissal and denial. I'm angry and disgusted at people who claim they have your best interest in mind, and bill for it. They get paid, but I see the hypocrisy. The reinforcing thought that no one really cares. So I do have to care for myself. My anger boils over when I am told to ask for help, but the truth keeps showing, the help is not outside you. How do I save myself? What am I even saving myself from? I am just learning to continue to endure the waves of sorrow, seeking some moments of beauty and happiness. I just need to define that those things actually mean to me.