Sunday, July 1, 2012

The Inner Strength that May not Exist

Inspiration strikes me in very odd ways and very infrequently. Actually very strange people inspire me. Some of whom I would never admit- people who remind me of the girl I used to be...

Time is my enemy, I hate being idle and I can't force myself to be busy. How does this happen? My mind is riddled with regret and despair and even desperation at times. Consumed by the feeling that something out there has to fill this void. "The girl with the hole in her heart."

Back in the day I was so receptive to personal growth. I welcomed obstacles and hard times because I knew I would come out stronger and wiser. There are other factors that should be considered when thinking about my state of mind. However, those other factors should be short lived set backs and yet I still feel the same.

For example, LSB the one guy who made me feel safe. He did not make me feel pretty, but he did take care of me and never let anything hurt me. So I find myself craving his protective (obsessively controlling) presence. Then in the back of my mind I remember all those nights I cried myself to sleep because he made me feel so trapped. My rational mind knows this is all misplaced discomfort. I hate the unknown. I hate being unemployed and in purgatory.

I want to work out and be fit and healthy and be able to take care of myself and inspire people the way other people inspire me. Instead no-one wants me to be alone and they crowd me and constantly inspect me for signs of tears. They all text each other as if I wasn't aware. "She's not doing well." "Keep an eye on her." "Don't let her run away."

Always running. Then I realized as I planned my various trips so as to not overstay my welcome anywhere----I have this insatiable craving for solitude and then when I get it, it's not enough. It came to me, I can't be satisfied because I can't run from myself. I'm stuck with me. And that is who I'm running from....myself. That is the extent of my enlightenment these days. Pathetic.

I haven't come up with a solution yet. Although the idea and act of a three month hike in the wilderness as seen in Wild: From Lost to Found on PCT seems like the cure. Being cold is just worse than being sad to me. Unfortunately, Ms. Strayed, the author, is cold often. And she is on the verge of being sexually assaulted multiple times. I'm just going to keep reading,like I always do, and I'll pray that something clicks and I move on and accept the bullshit that I have created. No regrets.

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