I'm supposed to be in bed, fast asleep right now. I tried, I truly did. But alas, I am back up after 2 hours of flipping and flopping in the bed. I stumbled upon my blog in which I have posted nothing for over 6 months now. Reading back through all of the entries, one word kept coming to my mind. "Pretentious." Everythng I had written up to this point was so pretentious, as if I were writing merely to get a reaction or to try and impress you guys. I realized how far I had come in the last 6 months and I had to write about it, even at the risk of losing some of you as friends (you might think I'm dangerous!)
Getting real with myself, a very painful thing to do if you haven't tried it, has left me kind of bitter toward that stupid me who thought she was the bomb, writing about "The Now" and broken coffee cups. Writing about "The Now" would have been interesting to read over the last 6 months if I had kept that up. You would have seen entries like, "Right Now...I have no religion, no support network, no means of self support, no talent, no job, no purpose, no peace, no balance and no self control", all in that old pretentious tone and with the expected sniveling and carrying on. Good thing I'm too flaky to keep up the blog, right?
Today, because I am still struggling with the circadian thing, I am frustrated, to say the least, with my inability to function during the day. Mostly, I sleep during the day. But that is small potatoes, and anyway, sleeping all day has its benefits. Being partially asleep and partially lucid lets one in on a few secrets that are otherwise locked away. Such as, the fact that I was a very angry person. Over the last year I have felt as if I were losing my mind. Losing my ability to come up with any rational plan or method of coping with every day stuff. Things I see you all do with ease were getting hard for me, like getting dressed everyday or showing up for things. Not to mention the fact that I no longer knew what I believed anymore. When people know you're going through something that they can't solve, they tend to disappear, and I don't blame them. In fact, its good. Without the aloneness and rock bottom hitting, I doubt I would have ever made it out with what I needed.
Over the last 6 months, I filled 2 journals with whining, bitching commentary on how crappy everything was and how life had screwed me over. I realized that I was very angry. With what or whom I had no idea, specifically, and still don't really. It felt like I hated everything and everyone. Everywhere I looked I saw stupidity, inequality, dishonesty (even in the places I trusted the most), cruelty, suffering and pain. It became unbearable to be awake at times. I was angry because I had to be here, tethered to this sucky planet with no way out. Looking around at the "Stepford People" bopping through life happy to be alive, pretending (I thought they must be) to be thrilled to have the privelege of being moms and wives made me completely resentful and threw into sharp relief that which I was wasn't. Happy.
Why am I sharing this? I'm not sure. Maybe some of you are struggling with something too and need to know that you are not alone and that it can get better. (Or maybe I just need to write it for myself.)
How it got better: I started reading alot, searching for some ideas that would pull me out of the funk. What I found out, after reading The Tao, The Bhagavad Gita, The Golden Present and many other writings, yes, including the bible, I realized that no one knows anything for certain. There is so much freedom in admitting that you don't know anything and in realizing that no one else does either (and if they say they do, they are either delusional or they are lying). Freedom was what I lacked, it's absence was why I was so angry. I began dropping the idea that I had to believe something. I dropped the idea that I had to BE this or BE that.
Who was to blame for this lack of freedom? Me.
My imprisonment was self-inflicted. The bars were made out of my own ideas (and those pressed upon me over the years), the ideas that I had about what others expected of me. I began to think, "What is the worst thing that can happen if I just be who I really am, say what I know in my heart is right, do what I know in my heart is right to do, wear what I want to wear and help people in the way that I think is the right way to help people, treat people the way that I know in my heart is the right way to treat people". Free from the worry that comes with not measuring up to what others want you to be. Free from the fear of being sent to hell by a god who supposedly loved me, that was a big one. Free from the cookie baking mom syndrome. Free from the comparisons. Freedom to be honest about my disagreement with issues that Christianity condemns, such as homosexuality and religious equality or free to simply love without condemnation.
Once I dropped the ideas, what was left was love, truth and yes, surprisingly, joy. It feels like I am a different person entirely. One with no agenda other than to love everyone and everything, one with no expectations other than to be fully aware of the moment. One who does not pretend to know the truth about god, whatever that may be. Saving spiders instead of squashing them. Rescuing dogs even though its inconvenient and expensive. Saving drowning beetles from the pool filter. Its not stupid, its right, and compassionate and its me. Showing compassion when I feel it toward everything, whether society thinks its worth it or not.
What I learned:
Freedom is the cure, Love is the the same as god and joy comes from the freedom to love. Now if I can just get some sleep!
