Darkness by default
Tuesday, April 19, 2011 at 6:10PM 
I can’t be alone unless I turn myself off and stop feeling. Period. It seems that I have such an array of emotions that unless I can express them in some manner, to someone, somehow – talking, writing, waving my arms around, drawing – anything – unless I can get rid of them, they rule me and wreck my quietness and focus – the only way I know how to deal with them is by shutting myself off. Turning off all feeling and marching forward like a robot. I get very productive in this state, actually. The problem is, the further I go, the harder it is for me to get out of this and to feel anything at all. The longer I stay locked, the longer it takes for me to unlock myself. And the longer I remain like this, the harder I get hit in the aftermath – by the suppressed anger, and fear, and loneliness, and pain, and you name it – all the negative stuff that disrupts my daily life.
I found one outlet – writing. If I can’t write it out, I have to talk it out. If I can’t talk it out, I channel it inward, and that destroys me. Sounds like a case for a mad house, right? I wonder sometimes. I wonder why I feel so much, and how I would have loved to be someone who doesn’t. Someone who maybe feels half, or even just a third – of what I do. Wouldn’t life have been wonderful - being non-emotional, walking through life while being stable and nonchalant? Are there people out there that can do that? I wonder. Is it me only who has everything on the surface? How would I go about growing a thicker skin and not letting myself read everything around me, and letting it affect me – sitting in a crowd and not paying attention to a single face, to a single gesture, being oblivious to tones of voices, to glances towards me, to how people talk to me, to what they say, to how they move, to how close they get or how far they step away?
I try, but every time I fail and plunge into darkness by default. I can feel it starting – I now know what it means. I can even explain to people what is happening to me while I am going down – but I haven’t learned yet how to stop it on my own. I seem to always be needing a hand, someone to grab me and hold me, someone to tell me I’ll be ok, someone to be there for me while I wrestle with it, even if someone would only watch. Knowing that I’m not alone helps me battle it faster and root it out on the spot. But being alone? No way. I see the familiar abyss. I yell and scream, but I realize it's only inside my head - and nothing is coming out of my mouth. I'm used to suffering quietly, I'm afraid to disturb other people's peace - and so I only open my mouth, like a fish out of the water, but then it explodes in my head, but I keep falling and falling and falling. Unless someone catches me in the middle, unless someone can see and understand that I'm asking for help. I have yet to learn to ask for it. It just so happens that if someone stands by, sometimes they get the idea that something is wrong. And if not - well, I don't typically ask twice, or ask at all, so I assume - I'm on my own. Better suck it up. Better get through it alone. Better not feel anything - because it's painful. Better let it happen because fighting it will only make it hurt more. Better - what else? Whatever reason I can cook up, I will. Anything but to see that I actually can stop it, I actually can be alone, I actually will be fine. No need to get numb, no need to fear anymore - I will be ok. My default behavior is - it's the end of the world. It is black and white, there is no middle.
But it shouldn't be. There is no default. I have control. I can. I know I can. And I don't have to do it alone. I'm not alone anymore. There will always be someone to catch me when I fall - that's what friends are for. I am not on my own, I'm among people, and they all fall too, just like me. They all feel things too, just like me. They're all afraid, just like me. We're all emotional roller coasters, in one way or another, and we bump into each other as we hurry forward, and we all catch each other when we get off course, and we all are just trying to live this life as best we can. Even when it gets dark, it will always get lighter after. Look, I thought I was in the middle of darkness again today, but not anymore.
Photo by Royce Daniel.
Reader Comments (3)
Thank you for writing and sharing your blog of experiences. I too write, blog, talk, and verbalize my childhood abuse to anyone who will listen to raise awareness. The emotional roller coaster is so hard to handle at times. NUMB would be a very good and sweet emotion indeed. It's a curse and blessing to feel deeper, think deeper, look deeper into the eyes of others but at the same time, it can leave one feeling very lonely on an island screaming and no one who wants to hear the words that are spoken because it's too horrific to believe and accept that child abuse does go on in society. As survivors of child abuse, I personally feel we have an obligation to other adult survivors to help prevent these tragedies from robbing other children of their innocence and from messing up their adulthoods.
The medical and judicial aspects to treat and punish these criminals will never be able to fully assist adult survivors of child abuse and prevent others from experiencing these horrible fates until everyone starts talking.
I came across your blog from Let Go Let Peace website. You are not alone in your feelings of mental case. I feel we are not the mentals ones~We have such cursed realities that we survived and are still trying to wrestle what we know to be true within and still screaming to a world that prefers to have deaf ears on the horrid reality and price that society pays for child abuse. May you find daily peace, strength and continued courage to spread the word, share the truth and continue on this courageous battle of child abuse awareness. Best Wishes and Many Blessings.
As usual, Ksenia... "LIKE". Don't stop. :)
Thanks guys! I won't stop - especially not when you keep encouraging me :)