I'm free
Thursday, October 28, 2010 at 5:03PM 
Free of all feelings, free of guilt, free of longing. The emptiness inside me makes this audible sound - I can hear it as I walk. It's even, I'm even. What happened? Where did all the turbulence go? Burned away, spilled out? I don't know, but the main thing is - I am free and it feels fantastic. I do not belong to anyone, nobody belongs to me. I am on my own. And I'm ok with it. It is filling me in, and yet I am not filled with anything at the same time. I still crave the connection, but somehow it is not ruling my heart and my brain. It is lodged now a few inches below my stomach, and I can barely feel it. I feel like I can contain it, I have contained it. It gently taps on the walls around it, but I'm not letting it out. I will be more careful now in throwing around my affection. It's ticklish almost, I itch to spill, but I can lightly control it. Another phase? How long will this last? Every day brings a change, and I wonder when the next change will roll around. Should I now carefully reserve myself in a shell and not see people, to not stir it? Or should I trust that I'll be ok and still reach out?
I don't know - I feel a bit paralyzed and scared at the same time. What if this won't last, what if there is more pain around the corner? How can I make sure I stretch this temporary happiness and stability into a permament state? What else is there that awaits - that I have not tasted yet? I'm very vulnerable still, and each poke hurts disproportionally. I'm like a half-baked pie - rosy and crisp on the outside - you think it's ready, you touch it lightly with a spoon, and the delicate surface breaks, the runny filling oozes out. Too early. Need more time in the oven. How long though? How much longer will I be "pokeable"? Seems there is no end to my trials. No stability. Only the freedom is something to celebrate - at least that is a little victory. Yet I don't know how to hold on to it - maybe fill myself with routine? Focus solely on kids? Throw myself into a new hobby? Something to hold on to, in case another storm is coming? Something to fill in the time, every single free minute, to not think, to not feel, to not analyze. The only thing I know - the only thing I can do - is keep walking forward. Keep moving, through, not around, and meet whatever comes my way. Let it come, let it surround me, let it tear me, work through it, and come out the other end - hopefully a little bit stronger, a little bit more together. A little bit more ME.
I'm free. But desperate not to be - desperate to throw all my self-imposed rules out the window and madly fall in love - declare to everyone that this is it, and I know it is IT for sure. Despite the fact that I don't. Despite the warnings and suggestions and well wishes from friends, from the ones who have been through what I am going through. This internal battle between the idealistic rosy future picture and the hard earned freedom threatens to throw me off balance. Perhaps my written words are those anchors that hold me together right this very minute. The routine of having to spell it all correctly, type it up in a certain way, find a photograph that illustrates my feelings - somehow this is holding me down, not letting me float up and away, into the unknown, the black night sky, the winds to take me places I don't want to go, or not ready to go to yet. And I keep going - keep searching for words to express how I feel, drying my eyes along the way, spelling it out on paper, taking it out of my body and into public consumption. One word at a time, still free - still empty. On the edge of dipping into the water and filling in myself with feelings again.
So is this freedom then or something else? Maybe I am getting tired of it all, and it's not freedom? Maybe it is a white lie that my body is using to get me back into begging for emotions? How can I tell? Only time will show. I wish there was an easier way. Maybe I'm not free after all, but confused and scared and lonely and numb. And the emptiness inside is only one big fat pretense, because it is easier this way to survive. Survive being alone, being on my own. Having only me for my own comfort.
I've gone a full circle now - am I free? I don't know now. I am trying to hold on to that feeling that started me writing, and now I can't grasp it...
Photo by Jane Rahman.
Reader Comments (2)
Hi Ksenia,
The feeling might not last but the good news is it'll be back. The analogy to roller coasters is cliche but accurate. Using that analogy you're past the first and scariest hill.
Even though I really appreciate that you've been writing about your experiences I'm really sorry you had to experience them at all.
Take care,
figleaf
Thanks:) I am actually not sorry. This is all part of life, and I am learning to be with it rather than running from it.