If it's impossible to know what love is, without forgiving someone's darkness-- that certainly explains a lot of why I struggle to love myself at times. If It's impossible to know someone, without seeing their darkness, that would explain why I feel so empty still. I'm acquainted with my darkness, we dance and philosophize sometimes. Other times we meet each other in silence, honoring each others' presence without dialogue. Still other moments, I curse my darkness - and insult my integrity and ability to persevere - at the expense of my attention, hope, and faith. Writing is my only honesty ticket for my darkness, my connecting flight, my opener. I've been searching and taking inventory of my fears lately to gain insight into why I can't communicate directly with them, why I can't bring them to the forefront and allow others to see them, and to know me in that way. Forgiveness seems to be the missing party, the lost luggage so to speak. I can't absorb the love of others, nor all of the love around me, or at least a large portion of it because I am waterlogged by disdain, disapproval and judgment of my own darkness. Even more importantly, I haven't been able to further develop my own ability to love myself, and I see now why forgiveness is a majority of the reason why. Toxicity becomes my environment without the outlet for my darkness, and there is no guarantee of muse, no cure-all for writer's block. I know now that I need another way in. I've lived a long time, 33 years without another way in. I started writing at 11, to document my suffering that I didn't understand at the time. As I got older, the writing wasn't enough, and I sought outside help. I became more versed in managing my mental health, and then as expected, life became more complicated. Today, my skills to manage certain aspects of my mental health, have proven to not be enough -- and suffering is getting the best of me, rearing its ugly head as exhaustion and burn out.
I've had moments, periods of time in my life when I felt that I was very strongly loving myself. But I find that these states are not permanent, and if you aren't careful, you fall right out of them; as I have. I've forgotten how to love myself, and I'm not sure I've ever been able to love myself in the wild way that I love others. And I understand that my hopeless romantic way of loving some others in my life, will never be replicated in my love for myself- as would be expected as I don't have that same relationship with myself. However, should I be able to love myself with similar fervor? Is the love that I deserve, from myself, of a different variety altogether? What is the sign that will show me that enough is enough? Have I ever seen it before? If forgiveness is the missing party, it would seem that shame is the vehicle for my lack of forgiveness. I don't let other people see my darkness because I'm too busy protecting them from it, or perhaps I am only protecting myself - and instead only robbing them of seeing me. I hide because I can't be sure that I can function outside of my darkness enough to be what I perceive as visible to others. I hide because of how I perceive myself to be intolerable to others. Why am I ashamed of my darkness? In some ways I relate this to others' in my life in the past who have shown disdain for the intensity of my emotions. Other's who have not known how to bear witness to my emotions without feeling responsible for them, others who are unable to bear witness to my emotions without feeling consumed by them. I don't want anyone to bear any burden of what I feel, as I truly believe I was given this ability to feel so intensely, for a reason. I don't want anyone to be hurt by the intensity of my emotions, because hurting myself is enough. Searching for my way in... meditating with all of you. Welcoming submissions, as always. Be well, and find your way in as well, as I am searching for mine.
-Phoenix
