I know this feeling.
I’ve been here before.
I’m afraid and I’m overwhelmed and the feeling is so strong, so cavernous and scary, and the last thing I want to do is feel it all. Gosh no. Why would I want to feel all this terrible crap?
So I bury it under too much Pinterest and movies and music and food and I’d rather refresh my Facebook feed than do something smart like, I don’t know, talk about it. And none of these things make me feel better, but they don’t make me feel anything. And that’s certainly better than feeling the pain I felt before.
So I numb. I numb and numb and numb.
And that is my escape.
I’ve been doing this for eighteen years. It took me eighteen freaking years to figure out that this system is faulty and ineffective. It’s like giving painkillers to someone with a broken bone without actually setting the bone. As soon as the painkillers wear off, the pain is back again and will someone please just fix the damn bone? Why am I so willing to live in so much denial? Why would I rather numb out and disengage from my real life than take the risk to be human? Is avoiding pain really worth losing my full capacity to feel?
I don’t have any answers for you tonight – no glorious poetry or deep, insightful explanations for our fears. But I do know this: I am done. I am done hiding behind books and computer screens and doors, and I’m going to keep putting myself out there, every day, regardless of what might happen. Because that life is the story I want to tell- the story of how I braved the elements and walked out into the storm. That is the story that does my heart good. That is the story that makes me proud to be the girl who always holds her palms open and looks up at the sky with a smile, no matter how dark and threatening the clouds might be. Just a little rain coming, that’s all.
And I pray that I’ll always feel the raindrops and remember to dance, or cry, whatever the storm might bring.