I feel like I’m becoming not enough, as if I’m no longer adequate to meet his needs. Maybe this is my typical cycle of self-sabotage coming to fruition, as it always does, only later than usual in the circle of things. I want to cry, to scream, to yell, to hit, flailing my arms in protest only to realize I’m encased in a straight-jacket with the keys to my bindings flushed down the toilet. I feel the all too familiar stinging in my wrists wishing for release of the blood flowing within me. I notice the ever-present thought of wondering what I could do to keep him within my grasp, yet this time, I don’t feel the desire to actually do anything except walk away. To return to living alone in perpetual solitude, becoming married to my work as so many others have done before me. I want to run off into the woods, hiding under the safety net of the trees, encapsulated by the silence surrounding me. So far away that the only audience to my cries of despair would be the Creator. I feel a heaviness in my chest, not caused by the literal virus within me, but rather the emotional parasite of codependency, wanting me to rely on him for my worth, for the purpose of my existence. I fight against it this time, defending my autonomy. I will not fight for the love of anyone. If I am unwanted by humanity, then I must cling all the more to the desire which the Divine has for me, realizing and accepting that that relationship is the only one which will ever truly be eternal.

I’m still scared though. Terrified of the possibility of returning to being on my own. I feel the internal tears well up, begging for release, for catharsis. I sense the heat in my chest and my forehead indicating the emotional eruption that wants to take place. I feel the tremor in my wrists as I put words into reality, giving them life and purpose. I’m wary of sharing this with anyone lest they pity me, in which case I would feel the manipulator rather than the comforted. I want to reach into my psych and wrench it free from any sort of brokenness or inadequacy which seeks to destroy me. For now though, my cracks are gaping, irreparable. I must embrace them and learn to love myself in spite of them, maybe even because of them, rather than trying to staple them close. Some wounds are unhealable by human hands… only the One can seal them shut. I can only hope and pray that She decides to do that soon… my own strength fails me.


~ by Michael O. on June 1, 2011.

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