Welcome to the beginning! This is the time when all my plans seem neat, elegant, and simple. Easy-peezy, can't go wrong. Well, I'm getting way too old to put faith in that happening anymore, so we're gonna call it like it is: messy and confusing.
But still good. Still good. Welcome to my little haven of chaos, where my vulnerabilities may become your cautionary tales. 😉
So, this post is going to be updated. A lot. In fact, when I make a new post it will be because I broke consistency and had to start again. I do that. A lot. So why fight it? Obviously the chain will get broken, and there will be a chaotic incoherency that blips from one phase to another. Therefore, the entries will be dated, and the newest given red coloring for easy reading. Enjoy!
And then, it closed up. I learned how to express myself verbally and stopped reading or writing creatively. The thoughts continued, yet matured into introspective evaluations of my life and the universe instead of imaginative musings. My ability to write fiction decayed, leaving me lost and confused.
Writing was what I wanted to do with my life. I didn't know exactly how, but I knew writing was- and still is- my greatest skill. But whatever afforded me the freedom and ability to write about anything at any moment withered away to this uncomfortable overfamiliarity with words and a complete lack of forward momentum.
What was the point, anyway? We're all going to die, right? What does it matter if I am happy or miserable? What will it matter if I repay my debts or drown in them? I cared for how it affected people I loved, but at the same time it seemed the cost of them caring enough about me to be affected in the first place. There was no joy to lift me from that pit, no sunshine bright enough to dispel the shadows taking root in my heart.
Grief is hard, yo.
Lately, I've come out of those depths to see the point is just to feel that passion of moving forward. To be inspired, motivated, for the sake of motivation itself. And following that journey has taken me to some interesting places that overlapped the self-help stuff a friend kept running across. Such as standing in the face of my inner monster- I just sat with it, appreciating how enormous and powerful it is. Or delving into emotional pain waves to discover unhealed traumas plaguing me from my youth.
Most recently, I've become aware of how my inner monster upholds a belief that for every happiness and joy I must endure an equal amount of suffering. My body literally depresses itself, halting any forward progress and momentum to "stave off" the universe's ills. If you don't see the flaw in that, then it's possible you do it, too.
There's no amount of suffering I can endure needlessly that will prevent incoming suffering from the universe. There just isn't. I can plead to the powers that be, do rituals or spells, create talismans and maybe that will help curb things that aren't slated to pass. But the fact remains that whatever is going to happen will happen whether I allow myself to be happy or force myself through misery. The idea I've had of the cosmic balance is half right and half tragically wrong.
If I punish myself in an effort to dissuade the universe from bringing me misfortune, then I'm creating a reality where "normal" is cosmically imbalanced. Because the universe doesn't intend for me to cause my own suffering, it expects me to deal with the suffering that comes. So me causing my own suffering just adds to how much suffering I expect to be necessary to balance however much happiness I have allowed myself to feel in that time. Which means the concept I have of balance depends on an ever-shifting set of variables that have nothing to do with what actual suffering and blessings the universe brought my way.
At the end of today's unplanned meditation, my god-self opened up and showed me that my journey is meant to be lived, not controlled. I can control myself, and I should do so, but not in an effort to control other things (and especially not to control the universe). Because I can only control myself, doing so should always be for myself in respect to the free will of others.
And my skills at writing are mainly meant to communicate this journey to others, because I'm so very good at explaining exactly how I feel and think now. Those that struggle to find the words can hear them most clearly, and those that don't understand won't bother reading. Anyone that fights against the words only resonates partially, and is likely struggling with their inner monster to accept the rest in a way harmonious with their true self. And those are the people I have feared the most, that my god-self says likely need me the most.
For so long, I've tried to avoid being hated or used as a scapegoat. I've done fairly well at it, though there's always moments (I mean, the only way completely out is isolation). And now I'm being called to abandon that crusade in exchange for fulfillment. A purpose to the suffering, exchanging my willing vulnerability for a reward I barely understand- but that we all unknowingly seek. And that's the true purpose of this blog. To expose my vulnerabilities as I can allow myself to, for the purpose of experiencing that reward.
Is it connection? Perhaps I will inspire a community? Or just find emotional depth in listening and spreading compassion to others. Maybe the reward is spiritual fulfillment through purpose and meaning? Who knows. My god-self didn't tell me everything. She just told me enough, and I'm ok with that. For now. lol
Thank you for reading. In these last words, for those that have stayed to read them, I send loving joy and peace: May this blessing follow you throughout your day and brighten the darkness to keep it at bay.