A lifetime of walls between us
You know more about me than most people do. Then again, most people don’t care.
It’s fine and true that we shift through life , walking in our own gravity. We wait for our world’s axis to tip, to be inexplicably drawn to another person. Someone whose strengths fills the voids of our weaknesses. Someone who steps in and shifts the satellite, just so, that all of the plates fly out of the cupboard and we happily find ourselves sweeping up. Within the confines of this waiting, is a process of gathering knowledge.
Knowledge ain’t cheap. Our expenses are varied and pressing, sometimes extracted by a pound of flesh. Sometimes extracted by a hardened heart. Sometimes by all of this. We continue to trudge along, piling on the effects of this knowing.
I live in a capsule. I use everything in me to keep people away. My weight, my humor, my intellect, my words. Yes, my words. Organically, even this space puts an arm’s length distance between me and The Boy. He watches as I whittle away hours on this little black box. I use it as a method to escape, to dive into my own head and to add another brick in the proverbial wall. This space? While I strive for as much transparency as possible- this is false intimacy. I know, in the back of my head, at any moment if this threatens me…I can turn it off. I can delete everything and leave as if it never happened.
Theoretically.
I have watched this space ebb and flow and fluctuate and I have watched myself be the architect of my own healing. You have all certainly been a piece of that puzzle. But this is easy for you, too. If I am waxing too deep, you can turn away. I am pixels on a page on any given day. I am not your family, you are not mine. But we keep inviting each other in.
This both heartens and scares the shit out of me, if I am honest.
I sat with The Shrink today and let loose with the rest of the pieces. The parts of me that are so black and riddled with sickness. The parts of me that have been slammed shut with the mortar of shame. My addictive personality and how I am in a constant struggle. That everyday is a process of pain. How every bite I put into my mouth and take into this battered body sends me into a minor fit of panic. How I am fighting, in a death spiral the ease with which I could be just like my father.
How I can be such an utter asshole to the people who love me the most.
So, I am here and striving not to pull the plug. To be honest, to be transparent. To take the risk and let you in. To take the risk that you will reject me for what is fundamentally me. To know that if you do, I will still strive toward this authenticity. I will love, regardless of how I am loved and will live despite my terror of doing so. I will wait to see if you make the journey with me. I will continue, regardless.
As if to watch fall, a lifetime of walls between us.
February 6th, 2009 at 9:56 pm
Let the walls fall, my friend.
February 6th, 2009 at 10:00 pm
Oh, I know about walls and transparency and words and walls and vunerability, and anxiety. You write about it so well, you’ve every right to wax and wane, to moan and groan. We all do it. Those who don’t who wax on like all is positive and light creep me out. It’s like a plug into reality has been pulled, and the eyes keep glowing.
pain is real
life is hard
bad shit happens for no good reason to good people.
We all get anxious and pissy especialy with those we love.
No need to wait, we’ll all be here. for our own reasons.
I love you.
February 6th, 2009 at 10:08 pm
You absolutely nailed why I keep blogging. It simply makes me less afraid to be human, to be who I am. Part of that is probably a function of age, but another part is that I keep telling my truth and people keep coming back to say “Me too!” or at least “That’s ok!”
February 6th, 2009 at 10:15 pm
Scary isn’t it?
Bring it!
February 6th, 2009 at 10:22 pm
You’re so brave .. here, (and write so well)
one day this page will translate into real life.
February 6th, 2009 at 10:47 pm
I’m still here. I still haven’t seen a crazy I can’t identify with. I still love you.
Now go love that Boy and send us all to bed!
February 6th, 2009 at 10:59 pm
It’s not easy, but if people can’t deal, they don’t have to read. You are perfect to me.
February 6th, 2009 at 11:01 pm
ain’t no wall tall enough to turn me away, kid
February 7th, 2009 at 12:02 am
Some walls are necessary and important, though. Right?
February 7th, 2009 at 3:34 am
Being authentic, true to yourself is scary. I hope you feel safe enough here to start chipping away at that wall.
You, in your beautiful way of writing, expressed exactly what I struggle with when I blog. I hope you keep going, you are stronger than you know.
Sending you peace and hugs.
February 7th, 2009 at 6:58 am
I would never reject you, even if you kicked, bit, hurled insults, or backed away. I get it. I’ve been there. I just want you to know that. I’m not just saying that as blogger because I do not think that carries as much weight. I am saying it as a woman and as a friend. I would never reject you. I think it bears repeating.
February 7th, 2009 at 7:30 am
Take the risk – there’s no rejection here. xo
February 7th, 2009 at 7:32 am
Oh, Miss Pixel…
That person you don’t like, the one who pushes people away and tries to keep them away with all the various walls around you… That isn’t you. I don’t think you like her even though it’s not her fault. She was vulnerable and someone took advantage of that and hurt her very badly. She isn’t you.
YOU are the person who shines through here on the screen. The one who wants to touch the world. The one who wants to be loved. The one who is trying with all her might to help that other person. The you inside is complete and perfect, trying to deal with the outside world which is not. And the outside world begins just under your skin.
Keep trying. Let the boy love you. Let the shrink help you. Let yourself out.
We who love you without knowing you will be right here… cheering you on.
February 7th, 2009 at 7:36 am
“Nothing noble is done without risk” and knowledge isn’t cheap. At least, knowledge that really means anything.
Powerful post.
Now, can you tell me how you are able to read my mind?
February 7th, 2009 at 8:07 am
nothing that’s worth anything is cheap.
bah…that sounds trite.
i’m just sitting here watching the walls fall.
it’s a beautiful sight.
February 7th, 2009 at 8:22 am
I don’t feel the walls x
February 7th, 2009 at 8:40 am
“I will love, regardless of how I am loved and will live despite my terror of doing so.”
I’m taking this journey with you my friend. Let the walls crumble, you deserve to be free of whatever prison has been built around you. (Hugs)Indigo
February 7th, 2009 at 9:10 am
I never know what to comment, because it all seems trite and dumb and so much less interesting that what you just said. I loved our own gravity and tipping and cleaning up happily. I’m with you in fearing to love others.
February 7th, 2009 at 9:47 am
You speak for so many of us. When I was much younger I had walled myself in, successfully creating a cocoon where I could be safe from all of the pain. Unfortunately inside the cocoon I was also free from joy and laughter. Over time I broke down the wall and now, 25 years later, I still have to work on trusting that people will love me in spite of my flaws.
Please let us help prove to you that you can and will be loved no matter what demons you let us see. I pray for your liberation from the things that plague you. Bless you dear one.
February 7th, 2009 at 12:12 pm
This is the second time I’ve sat here staring at this white box trying to compose the perfect comment.
It’s not coming out at all the way I want it to, but I’ll put something out here anyway.
That’s sort of the point, right?
XO
February 7th, 2009 at 1:00 pm
Oh Sweetie. Everyone here loves you, and if someone came in here and tried to put you down the rest of us would kick his/her virtual ass in a second.
You’re beautiful. Keep letting that beauty shine out until you can see it when you look in the mirror. We already can.
February 7th, 2009 at 2:16 pm
I’m not going anywhere.
(I do read all your posts, by the way, even though I’m only a sporadic (read “sucky”) commenter.)
February 7th, 2009 at 4:15 pm
As long as you’ll have me, I’ll be around.
(This post struck a chord in me, about blogging. Thank you.)
February 7th, 2009 at 5:41 pm
I think that one of the things I like about your blog is the intimacy of it. I keep my blog readers at arm’s length – don’t put much of the crazy out on the internet. It’s kind of ass backward, because I have a bit of anonymity on my blog – but not as much as I would like!
February 7th, 2009 at 6:28 pm
Here. with you.
February 7th, 2009 at 8:02 pm
so easier said than done, isn’t it? and yet here you are. doing it.
February 7th, 2009 at 8:22 pm
always.
February 7th, 2009 at 11:15 pm
“How I can be such an utter asshole to the people who love me the most.”, the same way I am. I do this to my husband over and over again to make him prove his love to me over and over again. Because I know I am not worth loving. How do I get that one out of my head?
February 8th, 2009 at 1:12 am
I will always there for you.
February 8th, 2009 at 4:53 am
I heard something that made me think of your post and return for a follow-up comment. Deb’s comment touches on the same theme. I’ll paraphrase what I heard because I couldn’t write fast enough to catch this verbatim.
“Sometimes we feel so unlovely we will treat others badly so they will treat us the way we think we deserve to be treated.” We’re uncomfortable being treated better than we think we deserve.
Peace,
February 8th, 2009 at 7:38 am
Not. Going. Anywhere!
February 8th, 2009 at 9:10 am
I could prolly match you dark, twisted sick part for dark, twisted sick part. No worries.
*smooches*
February 8th, 2009 at 9:15 am
The beauty is that we choose to stay. False intimacy? Maybe a bit. But we see you and we stay, the choice is a real one.
February 8th, 2009 at 10:24 am
Whatever I say here seems so much less brilliant than what you say up there, so I’m just going to tell you that this was a wonderful post, and hope that you continue to read my mind & write my heart.
February 8th, 2009 at 1:57 pm
sure, in a way it’s easier here. but a part of me hopes most of us take some of what we find here and bring it back into our so-called “real” lives in ways that help, in ways that are constructive, ways that help build toward honesty.
in truth, knowing you’re out there doing it inspires me, quietly, privately. whereas if you were my sister or my dearest flesh and blood friend, chances are we’d never have this conversation and i’d never know that you were there to draw the inspiration from. that’s not a lack of honesty in real life relationships necessarily, just a difference in the roles we play.
February 8th, 2009 at 2:10 pm
There’s so much mutability here it’s a good thing we don’t rely on each other (really) to stay whole. But there is a temptress, for those of us who don’t draw people near in our real lives. It is safer. (But sometimes it’s easier to be hurt, too.) Strange place, this is. But to have the opportunity to be drawn together, a few shining stars across the universe, well it’s good to have us all shine in our time, in our own spheres, and visit each other from time to time.
Also, it’s good to shed the flesh here, isn’t it, to be rid of the corporeal body. I’m much more beautiful in the land of blog. It’s freeing of my day to day sludge of a self. (Perhaps.)
February 8th, 2009 at 4:51 pm
pixels on a page….. that we are… it’s a strange place, blogland….
hope you are well
February 8th, 2009 at 4:52 pm
I don’t entirely agree with you. I think you let us in much more than most do. That is why I read you. You always strive for authenticity and that is very enticing. Keep at it, my friend. We’ll be here.
February 8th, 2009 at 5:22 pm
i know how you feel about authenticity and truth in blogging. i think we all do. i flirt with it. i toss it out there, then reign it back in. i want to say so much, but there are so many variables, so many search engines, so many weirdos that you can’t even think of.
oh, and i agree with jck with not agreeing with you. you really have put a lot out here. a lot. and you’ve put it out here beautifully.
February 8th, 2009 at 8:42 pm
your honesty is always so beautiful.
February 9th, 2009 at 7:22 am
Perhaps it does breed a false sense of intimacy. But I think the anonimity, the fact that we can speak out here without having to look into someone’s eyes, is very freeing at times.
February 9th, 2009 at 7:52 am
Thank you for wording so beautifully one of the best reasons for blogging… Look at this big world of love!
Thank you for your words dark and twisty. Thank you for the hope. Thank you for all of it.
February 9th, 2009 at 8:51 am
shit. this is beautiful. how is it i managed to come back to my reader on a day when you posted this? perfect. just what i needed to read. strong and scared to death at the same time…..
February 9th, 2009 at 11:11 am
I struggle daily with what to post on my blog and what not to. You share so much – and I love you for it. You truly are inspiring.
February 9th, 2009 at 11:22 am
Write it like you breath it in and out at your own pace and i will keep coming, keep looking even when sometimes that is hard to do. Doing so makes me feel like I am that much closer to living and being human.
So write it out.
February 9th, 2009 at 1:26 pm
the blogging walls/transparency issues strike chords with me
for the rest… you have taken great leaps here. leaps of faith and leaps of friendship and all sorts of others. brava
February 9th, 2009 at 3:25 pm
I’m not going anywhere. Ebb and/or flow.
February 9th, 2009 at 6:08 pm
Still here. And consistently amazed at your strength. Strong enough to knock down brick walls I’d say.
February 9th, 2009 at 6:22 pm
I will love, regardless of how I am loved
If you only knew how impossible a task this is for humanity…
You are gold, alone, with such a declaration.
February 9th, 2009 at 6:26 pm
Forgot:
Yes, you must always do it for you.
It’s all here for you anyway…
Tired of repeating the Joseph Campbell line but,
If you’re falling, dive.
You know how.
February 9th, 2009 at 9:11 pm
I have endless (ENDLESS) respect and admiration for you. And it is all very real. You are so much more than pixels on a page. You are the embodiment of courage and the importance of being true and revealed.
I hope that this community is always yours and I think you are right to want that.
EmB.
February 9th, 2009 at 9:29 pm
I[‘m new to all this therapy stuff but I feel like blogging is a great outlet. Another piece of the puzzle for me.
there is something different about it in, as you say, people here know some things that people who see you most days don’t but I think that is ok. I used to wonder about that. but it just is what it is. part of it is just being a vehicle to get us where we need to be.
February 10th, 2009 at 4:39 am
you are incredibly brave- and extremely articulate. Lucky for us.
(xoxox)
February 10th, 2009 at 6:57 am
Let the walls fall… and then use the bricks to build a dancefloor.
February 10th, 2009 at 11:03 am
Hi – a lovely post, glad to have found you through VodkaMom. Boundaries are there to be pushed and walls kicked down x
February 10th, 2009 at 1:13 pm
Always, babe.
February 10th, 2009 at 1:35 pm
You are very real to me, and I am so glad you are here.
February 10th, 2009 at 2:32 pm
There is a serious danger that I may come to see you as my shrink. So much insight in so few words.
February 10th, 2009 at 7:33 pm
I used to feel like I had to be completely honest in my blog – I still try to. But i hurt someone in my family on one occasion and decided to put limits when it came to other people, not me. If they are involved in whatever happens I will ask them if I can write about it.
I still try to put the real people in my life above nay kind of blog effect.
February 10th, 2009 at 7:53 pm
It’s such a strange universe, this land O’Blogs. In many ways it’s more real than real life, in other ways it’s just escapism at its finest. I use it all the time to run from my problems, to pretend like everything’s great, to avoid the things and the people I’m not ready to deal with. Sometimes I use it to say the things I can’t say out loud. Sometimes I use it as a crutch.
Whatever it is, I’m grateful for it. Because I wouldn’t have found you, otherwise. And that would be a terrible shame.
February 11th, 2009 at 5:23 am
Knowledge ain’t cheap; ain’t that the truth.
February 11th, 2009 at 4:41 pm
and yet truly looking deep inside at ourselves and others and the worst that can happen to us and in the world, there really are no catastrophes. We all survive because we are here.
February 11th, 2009 at 9:16 pm
I like the deftness with which you weave the words in the first part of this post. Utterly captivating, but more importantly, utterly honest. You could credibly speak on behalf of my own fears about intimacy and vulnerability. Few things scare me like putting it all out there.
February 12th, 2009 at 7:09 am
You’re knockin’ down walls all over the place. Your authenticity slays me.
February 12th, 2009 at 12:38 pm
A fundamental tension in this post is how to stop protecting/avoiding The Boy by pouring yourself into the writing…and yet how to keep the writing, for all that it does for you. It’s that damn balance thing. I say we all have deep affection for you, but The Boy should come first. We think you’re wonderful, but he gets to love the real you, which is even more important. So write; we want to read you. But look up from the computer. Get up from it. Go do something with him.