Uncertainty

It can eat the soul out of me. I'm not sure about anything - how do people feel about me? How do I feel about them? Do they think about me? Do they judge me? What is going through their head? What if they hate me? What if they love me? What will happen tomorrow? What did I do to scare them off? Or to attract them? Is anyone out there feeling the same way that I do? Or am I alone - always? How can I make myself to get off this uncertainly wagon and understand that this is a bunch of bullshit that goes on in my head only? It has nothing to do with reality. But why does it feel so stinking real? 

I'm looking for the crutch of knowledge, for the spoken or written commitment - to know for sure, to be certain. I forget that this is an illusion, and even if I have the certainty, it can be broken at any time, it doesn't mean anything except another thing in my brain and in another person's brain. But how come I am so hooked to the idea? Exactly why is it driving me crazy and I'm so needy for it to happen? The longing is sucking happiness out of me, and it stretches it in front of my eyes, until it snaps into pieces. I rush to mend them, and forget that none of this is material, all an illusion. But there is pleasure in seeking out each piece, in sticking them together, in making sure all pieces fit. Now I have a project, now I'm busy doing something and putting my mind to rest. How long it will take me, I don't know, but it doesn't matter. I'm in the now, finally, though the reason for it is pathetic. I try to second guess other people's silence, I interpret their non-communication as if it has something to do with me, where in fact it has nothing to do with me. Why are we all wired this way? I try to read faces - is there something that I have done wrong, is there something I can do better? How can I deserve love? What else can I do to please? Just show me a sign that all is ok, that I'm ok, that it will be just fine.

I am learning things about myself - things I don't want to face. My constant desire of not being alone, being with someone at all times, talking at all times, sharing, touching - having a hard time being on my own. There is fear of abandonment, fear of solitude, of quiet. It's ugly, and it is me. The only way is through - to let it bite me, to let myself feel the pain. Breathe in, breathe out. There. Better. Love myself. Be ok in the moment. Listen to the wind. Feel the rain. Maybe I should go alone into the mountains - just kick it all and disappear. Shake from horror alone in the tent at night until it is gone and I'm at peace with the idea of the bear mauling me to death and understanding that he is as afraid of me as I am of him. Getting stinky and cold and clammy without shower and finding happiness in brittle crackers for lunch. Dipping hands into the river till they freeze and I can't feel a thing. Set out walking without a map, into somewhere, anywhere - to see where it will lead me, and how long it will take me. Not knowing if there will be an end, forgetting that there ever was a beginning. Getting into the rhythm of legs moving, when everything around blurs into constant movement, and nothing else matter except making another step ahead and breathing. Until the uncertainty is gone and only love is left - left to feel, to give to others, to have enough for the rest of my life. 

Brain is a fascinating thing - here I am tying away on a computer but feeling as if I'm outside and feeling already better from imagining what it would be like to do this for real. And I'm already in a different place all together - at peace. Ok. Fine. Better. Still uncertain. But being ok with it. 

Photo by Ko_An.