Love this. It’s from the eighties, I don’t know how many of you know this one, but it is beautiful.
There is much percolating inside my mind and heart…well I am trying to get closer to my heart, to touch it, I want to truly live. In my mind there are things percolating, a lot underneath, some can be seen at the surface, some only in glimpses. I am looking for Truth. I am looking for the core and the inner meaning. I am looking for way to heal and to be less afraid of fear and uncertainty, to embrace my difficulties and my brokenness as real parts of my experience I must contend with though not ultimately triumph and not the only parts of me but I cannot will them away or pretend they don’t exist. Embrace my vulnerability yet have hope for safety. See the ego for what it is too and see through. I don’t need to worry about what makes me adequate or inadequate to this world. Though this insecurity is there and a part of me, there is something deeper and more important. Getting to the heart of the matter and the meaning in me and in Life. I am part of something bigger, grander than myself or my limited knowledge. It includes my essence but I am not the end. I am a part. I must follow my path and search for truth, for the Real, both in me and beyond me. Our egos are not what really matters. Our selves matter. And I am not yet enough prepared or advanced to fully see truth. I can be grateful for the puzzle pieces that come my way. Be patient with the glimpses and seek to put them together to peel away what keeps my vision from the whole, but in it’s own time, and for now live in the moment, be as real as possible, yet have patience with the unreality, the confusions, the blocks to clear seeing that come my way, I surrender, I have to dance with them.
Lord of the Rings is inspiring my mind and lighting fires inside…it is giving me hope in dark places.
Something i was just starting to write in a very down mood, before i received an email that made me feel much better…but i was hurting:
Why do I bother? Why do I? I guess I have to just live in this life until my time comes to go. I would consider suicide but I do not want to die. I want to live. And, I fear death, I couldn’t go through with it. Plus it would hurt people. So just put one foot in front of the other. Walk on the “boulevard of broken dreams.” Which is what is happening. It makes me sad, it makes me angry, it makes me want to do some damage. But I’m not the violent type. It makes me think about SI. Although I rarely have acted on that.
I’m beyond frustrated with the stupid state of things and human beings. I have had enough. I will not be tossed around anymore by my needs for others or by others themselves. Anyone who does not accept me, care for me, and want me in their lives is free to walk away. All I need is people who are willing to stick it out with me. I deserve to be treated with respect and compassion. Not to be disregarded and thrown out when inconvenient. I have had it with being vulnerable to abandonment and hurt. I will NOT let you break me. The kind of breaking I want…well that’s something entirely different and is only with someone I trust.
“No you can’t bring me down, cuz I’m already here.” Three Doors Down
July 16, 2013 at 8:10 pm
I was homeless at times during a seven year period I lived in San Francisco from age 18 to 25. I didn’t usually sleep outside, but slept in a multitude of places from crashing in places of people who I had just met that day and going to a different place every night or few nights, to staying in squat houses, to crashing in a friend’s truck and an office building. I did sleep in the outdoors a little bit, in the park a couple of times for week to two week periods, and on the actual streets just a few nights. One thing was that I was never physically alone (though mentally, I was). I always had fellow humans to stay with/crash with/ camp out with. One night, just one, I stayed on the beach dunes alone.
In the times when I wasn’t homeless I often lived at run down welfare hotels, called SRO’s (single room occupancy).
The whole time I lived there I think I may have only lived in regular apartments (rooms for rent with rotates) twice, for a month or two at a time on both occasions.
I indeed was mentally ill from when I was twenty one. I suffered recurring bad depression, severe anxiety, and some mild dissociation, oh, and my primary diagnosis, OCD.
I was helped by an organization started by a very compassionate woman, whose name was Mary Kate Connor, who was a survivor of clinical depression herself. The organization was called Caduceus Outreach Services. It was to help the homeless mentally ill and those who couldn’t get mental health services elsewhere. They had psychiatrists who volunteered their time. I was far from cured and still suffered but they were a degree of stability in a very unstable internal world.
I associated a lot of my time with people who were homeless, near homeless, mentally ill, drug addicted, etc. it was quite a world. I had numerous romantic relationships that never worked out.
When I was twenty five, in 1999, my time there was up, I felt it was time to move on, and I returned to New Jersey, from which I’d come, and where I had family. I’ve been there since, I have a stable living situation for more than a decade now. I still struggle with mental illness issues, but am a thousand times more stable than I was then.
I need to be with someone who sees the good in me, and the negative side of me, and loves me, for me. Someone who is drawn to the happiness, joy and light within me…and also the pain and vulnerability, the aspects of me that are broken, the whole being inside…I want to be with someone who is willing to watch me break open and wants to touch me deep inside. I need to be with someone who knows I want to be there for them and respect their needs, and who will respect mine. Sometimes I get needy, sometimes I get insecure, I have fears that sometimes take over. That is not all there is to me, and I have strength inside…but sometimes, I break. And sometimes, I want to be able to break. Both because it is a real part of me, and…then there is the “positive breaking” too…but right now I’m talking about the fact that I need security and comfort for the broken parts. Of course, no one s perfect and can be there for me perfectly, or can just take on all my insecurities. But respect for my vulnerability.
The screws tighten again …I follow this winding, curving path…I keep getting entranced by dreams…taunting me, mocking me, they caress my hair…do I turn to you for comfort…I sit in silence…chanting my own name…looking for a memory…to remind me who I am…to remind me of safety…always trying to bridge the gaps…I don’t want to be left behind again…left behind and swallowed in dirt….dust clinging to my eyelashes, saturating my eyes, my vision…blinding me to all but emptiness and abandonment…in my dreams the waves overtake me…swept out to sea and sudden death…I am always fighting…tired of walking in the desert approaching what I think is an oasis…only to find a cruel mirage…where is solace….where is what life should be…where are you…why do I call your name, only to hear my own echo …but it’s not me…and it’s not you….where…are…we…do not let me go…do not let me go.