Abandoning the Lonely

Constantly feeling in danger of being abandoned is, to some, an irrational fear. With each waking moment one is faced with choices, choices of food, direction, and interpretation. We choose to interpret things in which ever way we have been trained to. The concept of glass half full or empty if you will. Each individual is trained to see life in a different way. From birth, a high majority of us see the world as open, free, and wonderful, gradually we are conditioned to either stay this way or take a sharp, plummeting turn for the worst-- pessimism.

My momma always used to say I woke up happy and went to bed happy, I was for sure one of those glass half full types. If my mom bought milk I was excited, because that meant I would have something to drink, and being just as excited as if she had bought a stuffed animal. This was what kind of kid I was. The sickness and death of my close Grandparents couldn't alter my ever cherry disposition. The great loss, and what felt like abandonment to a seven year old, would not take away the bounce from my step. Neither would the disability of my mother and the loss of my childhood as I came to learn sickness was what was in my life and how I had to handle it-- through caring. As my shoulders got heavier my heart grew stronger as well as my shoulders, I learned to carry the same bounce in my step despite how broken everyone around me thought I should be.

Then came the dreaded teen years... except I had hit puberty very early, I never had a drastic hormonal imbalance that made me lash out or be a pill. Yes my momma and I fought about whether or not Facebook was appropriate for a fifteen year old, but nothing significant or life altering that would stand a chance against my glass half full viewpoint. During my teen years I learned quickly that friends would easily walk away, girls would crush me, life would change, and death was inevitable. I was abandoned by many friends, most commonly not by choice, I was left by many loved ones in death, and in the end of my teen years I was left standing alone. To begin surrounded by a multitude of friends and loved ones and end alone is probably my first glance towards the glass half empty viewpoint.

Being raised semi-religiously I grew believing at minimum that there is a God, someone looking out for us, helping lead our lives in the appropriate directions and prevent true harm from coming to us. It was after losing both my best friend to a move and my child hood dog within three days of each other that I came to believe God was punishing me. That somewhere along the way I had done something wrong. I no longer could find the viewpoint that God was strengthening me, but more that he was punishing me. For what? I could not say. For being too happy? Despite my odds I was happy, purely happy.

As each boulder was added to my shoulders, losing more family members, car accidents, financial attacks, struggling with school, more death and more lost friends, my shoulders began to weaken. Eventually I came to learn everyone intends to abandon me. I am not worth remembering, for my friends rarely, if ever, make an effort to contact, because I am not on their minds. I am not worth noticing for few strangers try notice me. I am not worth protecting because in the thick of it all, even God abandoned me. A bounce cannot go on after the ball has been punctured by hundreds of needles, and one band-aide cannot repair such damage.

If we are lucky, those of us who have a damaged ball, have a band-aide come around every once in a while who tries to heal your bounce. But band-aides can only stick for so long, their adhesive wears out after wear and tear. And then yet again we are abandoned on the side of the road with a flat. Left alone with our thoughts.

Because each morning I wake up worrying that today is the day I am going to be abandoned again. Because each morning I wake up and feel the ache inside me that makes me want to abandon myself as well.

I was once so strong and stood so tall. My confidence was never tested, nor did I ever even think about the concept of confidence, because all that matter to me was being me. Because I loved me. I felt I was the best version of me I could be, because my glass was half full.

But now I am deflated. Over worked, over tired, over used. Dependent upon a band-aide. Knowing the more often I run water over my band-aide, or rub it against something the quicker the adhesive will wear down and the quicker I will be stuck naked, full of holes. Unfortunately, I have no control over this. I am no longer in control of my emotions and my actions which are now directed by my emotions.

To constantly hate oneself is to constantly expect abandonment, to some, this is an irrational fear. And it is those who cannot find understanding who leave the quickest.

I have come to see that sickness is what is to be in my life. I am sick. I cannot handle what I used to be able to handle, I am not me. I am sick. I cannot hold onto to calmness, or even logic sometimes. I am sick. I cannot see a light at the end. I am sick. I am losing myself because somewhere along the lines God, along with all too many people in my life, decided I was best of abandoned. My conditioning was based on faith in humanity; unfortunately, as I lost my faith in humanity, I also lost me.

Waking Up

Waking up the morning after laying in bed tossing and turning due to the great pain of grief you feel in the deep pits of your stomach praying not to wake the next morning, can be terrifying at best. To wake up is both a relief and a nightmare all rolled into one. For life is a precious thing, and each day we are granted with the gift of breathing is a beautiful one. However, when all you want to do is stop breathing the day must begin again with all the pain the day before contained. When you feel like this the only answer is to search...
Search for reasons to breath and reasons to find a way to smile. This is what is the most difficult. But you know that common saying, life is difficult? That applies to both the concept of life's struggles and the struggle of living.
And sometimes the best thing we can hope to do is remember taking away our own pain with inflict similar pain onto those we love. Love is all that we can hope to save us, because without love we are lost with no return.

Choose Purpose

Someday's feel like wasted breath. As our lungs expand in and out, a give and take of oxygen to keep our mammal beings going. But as each day passes so do thousands of breaths. A passing of a day can hold great beauty, pain, disappointment, joy, and excited, but it is all within a matter of breaths which it is determined how this particular day will turn out.

A day lacking variety is a day wasted. Plain and simple. A day only filled with joy is underappreciated. A day only filled with sadness is wasted in pain. 

Don't let any day that passes you be a waste of breath. Make each breath have a purpose. Whether that purpose is to smile when you hurt inside, yell to express yourself, or to calm yourself in times both of excitement and pain, make each breath have a purpose.

Because it is those days spent without any purpose that become a waste of breath. A day with purpose is simple, all you have to do is make conscious decisions to live, not simply make it through the day.

To Determine Worth

Sometimes the fear is suffocating. The fear that the one you love will come to hate you as you hate yourself. That one day you will convince them that you truly are not enough. It happens in a blink, in an instant of doubt. Questioning what is true, honest, love, and hate.
But sometimes it is just as important to take a step back and see that with light there must be darkness; therefore, with love there must also be hate. The fear, however, is a matter of if that hate will be directed at you or elsewhere. Unfortunately, it is so simple to see hate in the world around you, making that fear that much more suffocating. For if we can find hate in that which surrounds us, why shouldn't we expect the one we love to find that hate as well?
It happens in an instance. A little annoyance, like a grain of sand under ones eyelid, only there for a second, a minuscule thing, but causes plenty of damage in that second. It only takes one crack to lead to a busted windshield. It only takes one tether to fray a tapestry into nothing but string.
So why should we not fear losing those we love? How strong can love be that it can outweigh hate? How strong does love need to be in order to ward against hate? The fear is suffocating.

But suffocating worth the fleeting moments of love?

The Unexplainable Beauty of Music

You know what makes music so unexplainable? Outside of the obvious explanations that a quarter note is one beat and each scale follows a certain pattern and so on and so forth, music holds a realm of unexplainableness.

Music can make you see a moment with your eyes firmly shut. 

Music can make you smell a breeze from a different continent. 

Music can make your heart flutter like a plucked string without physically touching you. 

Music is powerful and unexplainable because music, in its design, touches human beings in corners that words in their simplest form cannot. 

Accompany anything with music, heck even this entry, and it will affect the interpretation. Music has the great power to influence through the subconscious inner workings of our brains, emotions and senses. 

This is what makes music unexplainable. It is magic. And magic is unexplainable. Outside of the obvious trap doors and hidden duplicates and so on and so forth, magic holds a realm of unexplainableness. 

Music is magic. And that is its unexplainable beauty.