I get lost. In my own head.
According to my husband, I have been alarmingly quiet lately. I don't mean to. Really. It just happens.
After a screaming match culminating with said husband telling me to get the fuck out of my head; I told him that I am lost in the darkness of my voices.
I have my friends. Best friends that I have had for years. Our friendships have endured the well-worn time and lately I have been spending an increasing amount of time with them. While I read, sew, crochet, quilt, and even sleep, they are there and we talk. They are my comrades in a perpetual war; one that never stops, one that has wounds that never heal just right. They know me and they understand me.
But they are not real. And that makes me weird and quiet.
I have nothing audible to say. My voice is locked inside my thoughts, my hurts, my scars. I hurt but how does one verbalize horror? Horror in the movies is simply expressed in screams both silent and audible, twisted faces, running, backing into a corner, all until one is consumed completely by the evil.
To say that I am scared is an insult. I am terrified. I am haunted. I live in horror. I have joked before about what kind of writer I could be and I always conclude that I would be one hell of a horror author. I love Stephen King yet I can read very few of his books because ironically, they scare me. However, when I can, I have to wonder what happened to him? Horror does not come naturally to most human minds.
I am struggling at this moment. What I wrote in my previous post has sent me reeling. It is horror in black and white. Black and white that is vivid color in my memory because it is my life. These silent times are when depression grows taller and wraps its dense, dark grip around my mind, my body, my eyes. The darkness is in the corner of my eyes, just out of sight, no matter where I look.
I paint a smile on and talk to people all day long. But in those same dark corners on my eyes I have to wonder what if they only knew. And if they did know would they be as lost as me?
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Hello darkness my old friend,
4 months ago
26 comments:
I pray GOD would penetrate through the darkness and the voices and wrap HIS loving arms around you. I pray HE would envelope your being with love, peace, and comfort and I pray you would become comfortable sharing your thoughts with those around you.
Blessings and prayers, andrea
I know what you mean. People are always telling me to 'get out of my head'. How do I explain to them that I am not JUST in my head alone. That I am WITH someone. WITH my friends.
I am sorry that you had to go through what you went through. You are amazingly strong and inspiring, and I hope that one day you will get through this.
Sending my best wishes, Shadyrae
I get lost in my head as well,but mine are due to the different seizures that I have,sometimes i just staring off into space,sometimes it it the violent type.
It sounds like what you are going through now-depression/overwhelm is not new for you and I'm hoping that you have resourses in place for support. You say: 'I have to wonder if they only knew. And if they did know would they be as lost as me?'. My impression of you is that you are very intelligent and creative and I wonder what your impression is of people on the whole. I ask this because I used to think that everyone else had the rule book to living but me. What I feel now is that we all are looking for love, inner peace and we all go after that in our unique ways. When I read you writing, troubled as it is I see a real striking beauty. Blessings from a fan.
See? Maggie sees the poetry, too, Shattered.
Arms around you, in an affectionate way, Jennifer.
If they knew they would be as horrified as your readers and the ones who comment here and as speechlessly angry and vengeful on your behalf.
Crime and Punishment, whatever happened to crime and punishment. But I am terribly afraid that all the punishment meted out for the wrong done to you is not going to help you. My friend, who is in a similar situation to yours, does not want punishment for her torturers, she wants the same as you do: an explanation and an admission of guilt. Neither of which she is ever likely to get.
As others have said, your story is not only fascinating in a frightening way but also extremely well written. Take pride in that.
I had that experience when I first started writing - of alternately finding what I wrote cathartic and horrifying. It was both a release and a rel-living of things. And sometimes I wasn't sure if it was a good thing.
Ultimately though, it is. So it's natural, while you write these things to need protection and comfort. And those friends in your head, they've been there through it all. So it's hardly surprising that you turn to them before anyone else. It's okay.
Hopefully you'll find some way to both converse with your husband and keep what you need to inside. I know you will.
Andrea, thank you. You are very kind.
Shady, I'm glad that someone "gets" what I'm talking about. Although, I wish that you didn't have to go through similar things that I do. You are strong too. Hang in there.
Mike, I am so sorry that you have yo deal with seizures. I have a good friend and her daughter has severe epilepsy. I have watched them deal with seizures for several years, including the absence seizures, so I really feel for you.
Maggie, yes I have fought depression for years and I have never found a medication that completely lessened the symptoms. I do have a good support system, a good dr, and an excellent therapist. :)
You know, I have never given much thought to my impression of people in general. I guess I would say that I am different than them. I have always felt very different and you're right, I have often thought that the joke is on me because other people just "know" how to live while I do not.
Thank you for the compliment on my writing. I can't say that beauty is my goal but it is nice to hear on occasion. Thank you for visiting my blog. :)
Botheyes, yes, I get it. I'm starting to agree with you as I see glimpses of it too. Thanks. :)
Deborah, thank you. You must be a really good mom.
Friko, it really is hard wishing for what I deeply know I will never get. I am sorry that your friend deals with this as well. Thank you for the compliment on my writing; I hope that how I write will be compelling and captivating.
Svasti, I can't tell you how good it is to read that you went through the release/yet horrifying cycle too. It is certainly difficult but it helps to know that it was good for you in the end. I have read a good deal of your blog and it is quite hopeful to see the change in your writing over time. You should be proud. :)
I did manage to talk to my husband some last night. He still says that he does not understand. But, you know, I am beginning to think that his PAST does understand, he just doesn't want to go there again...
I walked around like you describe for a long time. never stop writing your truth. I couldn't say mine either. So weird but I did blogging and it helped me get free...Truth..We need to tell. I could never tell...Not telling kept the shame...kept the torment...Stay strong ok. Sarah
Hello Shattered,
You commented on my blog (Thank-you!), so I came to visit yours this morning. I read your latest post and then the one before it. I kept reading until the beginning, and was 3 hours late for work.
You are magnificent, wonderful, amazing. Keep writing and getting it out and working towards peace.
I hope you don't mind if I send you a hug.
Kathryn : )
I am touched by your posts. I read this one and the previous one. You are a good writer, very good. The fact that it comes from so much pain doesn't lessen your ability.
I feel for you and do not have anything to comfort you other than I hope you someday work through the horrors you have experienced. Meanwhile, keep writing.
PS: thanks for visiting & drawing me to your blog. Your blog title caught my attn
I'm lost in my head right now too.
I can really relate to this post.
Keep writing, it helps me when there's nothing else there.
xx
Something remarkable happened at work Thursday. An advisee came in. I've met with her a few times before. She can almost graduate, but math is holding her back. I asked why she dropped out last semester. She said, "my dad and granddad were killed." Of course I stopped dead and pulled my chair away from her records on the computer. The next 45 minutes we cried as she told me her life story. I said, "your story is grief," and I asked her if she writes, she does. I asked if she has a blog, she doesn't. I told her about yours, and how you can't write your story on paper, but you find the ability here in your blog. She looked hopeful.
I know what we see here from you is barely a tip of the iceberg of your experience. It helps me though. But mostly, I hope it helps you, and I hope you will do it only as it does help. You said in a comment at your last post that at least you are not in denial. Yes.
Sarah, writing really does help doesn't it? One word in front of the other... one foot in front of the other. It's tough sometimes, though.
Kathryn, thank you for your visit and your hug. I'm sorry you were late for work though! Don't do that again... ;)
California Girl, thank you for visiting. I do enjoy writing here, even when the topics are horrible. I hope you will continue to talk and embrace your inner child. It is tough to do at times but from the small progress I have made, I know that it's worth it.
Zan, hang in there. I'm still lost too but I know that it doesn't last forever.
Ruth, how awful for that girl. I am so glad that she came in contact with you! Blogging here does help and in turn, I am encouraged when I see it help another hurting person or even someone like yourself who was able to help someone grieving like that girl.
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