Stop the Flashing Lights

I still get these, these … flashing lights. Something deep in my neural pathways that’s telling me – it’s not okay. You’re not okay. When the lights flash, reality is so broken. I feel broken. All the hope and love that I build throughout the day – watching my children play and say please and eat their broccoli – feeling the ease in my yoga practice – walking out of a lecture theater feeling a little bit wiser – being embraced by someone my soul aches for – yet all that is damaged. And the hope doesn’t linger. Hopelessness can be so crippling. I worked so fucking hard to keep the hope. I gave everything of myself to keep it. Flash. It’s gone.

 

I hate those moments. And they do linger.

 

Like cigarette smoke in your clothing. I walk around after, tainted. I feel like people can smell my fear. I feel alone; like someone whom it pains others to see. I reek of desperation and complication. I have dreamed since a child to be simple. Black and white. What you see is what you get.

 

Yet … what I see has never been okay. What others see has never been okay for me. Its crippling, you know. To feel so busy yet remain so empty. I want to fill myself up. I want to be full.

But still empty. What will it take, do you think? I’ll take the exhaustion. I’ll take the pain and the trials and the mistakes and the sleepless nights. Just fill me up.

 

Stop the flashing lights.

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5 thoughts on “Stop the Flashing Lights

  1. Beautifully written, but sad. I don’t have the answers — I think we find our own. But I feel for your deep grief. The moment-by-moment losses are so hard.

    Blessings and love.

  2. This is beautifully expressed Sian.

    May those deaths release you into greater life.

    I am sorry it is so hard, so painful.

    I believe that some of the strongest souls choose the greatest challenges here.

    When you are at the bottom, there is nowhere else to go but up.

    In my experience, there are only two choices: to end your life – or offer your life up to a power greater.

    1. Thankyou.

      It’s definitely hard – and such a paradox. Ive spent days after days trying to extricate things from ‘me’ and then spent countless more mourning for the loss of them. And for symmetry, that often leads to inviting them back in…. But I’m learning. Slowly. Awkwardly. Sometimes blissfully… That indeed, I want surrender.

      Thankyou again for your insight, I’m so blessed to be surrounded by so many open souls.

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