Last night was the closest I've come to a meltdown in ages. And it was sparked off, literally, by nothing. Nothing-ness scares me. Emptiness. Loneliness. Being alone in the midst of a crowd. There are times when all I want is to be alone. But I don't ever want to feel alone. It was nothingness crowded in. Like a shadow, with light enfringing jaggedly at its sides. And I don't know what I want. To stay in the cool comfort of the shadow - silent, content; or to let in blinding light, and lose forever a refuge.
There's this sense of desperation, and a slight tinge of panic. About what? I don't know. Perhaps it's the realization, the slow but certain realization, that things are changing. That I am changing.
That it's in my character to let go, to leave behind, but still want to cling on. Memories are never enough. And even the beautiful happy ones are painful, because ultimately they're over. Never to be experienced again. There's this tremendous sense of loss for what has been, and what could have been which jarrs with the hope of what could be. You know moments which you want to last forever? That you want to be fully drenched in? Even if I could wish that into reality, I wouldn't know which to choose. And there'll always be something else you could do, something else you could be. There is no best thing, no most desired. Only what's accepted and lived.
But in some things there is truth. Truth which compels decisions and action. Action which I'm not sure I'm brave enough to take. Or able to be committed enough. Or right enough.
I don't like this period of not knowing. Of being on ground where I have, until a decision is made, no control, not even capacity for control. Where all my decisions and choices are based on "if" and "unless". "If" especially annoys me. I feel like I'm not committing to anything - and I like committing. But for now all my plans have to be short term. I suppose that's just how things are.
We live by faith and not by sight for you.