In the beginning there was light and dark...
The words seem to glide from my mind to my lips, through my hands and onto the paper. It was then and it is now, a continuous memory of times passed and passing, filled with words that cannot begin to convey the emotions that I felt and continue to feel. How can a life be riddled with such pain and yet at times be free and fun loving, knowing that the pain will return in its original form?
I was alone and I am alone now. I don't know if that is the same as being lonely but the emotional carriage of the feeling is the same for me. Pain and despair, fear and anxiety, my mind continually asks "what if" over and over again. I feel afraid but I am not sure why. A looming sense of darkness surrounds me and I feel like I am falling into a deep and very dark hole that has no bottom, no guide, no sense of being or reality.
Why do I feel this way, I continue to ask? But at first no answers come. If I can anticipate everything then my ability to control the fear and the dread will become real. The need to do so is overwhelming. I see all and take in everything to a point where my mind and my body are saturated and tired. Where is my reason and why have I gone mad? I am alone with these thoughts of doom, wanting desperately to find a place to put them so I do not know of them again.
If I close my eyes the dark hole is there. I panic as the crazed thoughts wash over my body and I realize that I cannot sleep. Will this ever end? The outcome is uncertain as I search for answers I cannot find. Run, run fast and faster and perhaps I will escape the hurt. Why was I destined to be alone, not knowing how to live? What is right and who is watching me and why am I being judged? I fear reprisal and criticism, therefore I hide.
If I don't understand this strange sense of being outside of myself then there should be some place where I can get the answers. Fighting to put myself together, I am in awe of the job ahead of me. For the devastation and personal fragmentation is unreal. But my mind tells me it is real and that there must be an end to this tale of horror. But how do I fit the pieces back together when there are so many?
Who am I and where am I in the greater scheme of things? Am I good or bad, happy or sad, sane or crazy? I remember being happy, but fighting so hard at life in order to keep that feeling. Why are there even emotions attached to such ugly words as fear, panic, pain, desperation and sadness? I now know what it all means, but that is precious little consolation. The confusion and the fog always come back, and I have to hunt for a new path out of this dense forest of misery.
I would think of a tool box that holds those valuable objects that can fix my wiring. That must be it, my internal wiring is bad. Some one can go in and make right whatever it is that has gone so terribly wrong. I first dreamed of this as a child and hoped that one day it would be true. Tools that could free me from the hold of anxiety and depression could exist, and allow me to experience life as others seemed to experience it. One day the pain would stop, and I could look forward without the dark clouds and deep never ending tunnels. There must be rainbows hidden on the other side and I have to find them. I would tell myself this over and over until it was almost hard not to believe in a cure, a remedy, an everlasting peace.
