Raw Reflection

**Note: This is not something I would normally post on my blog, but in an effort to remain authentic and not give the impression that life is all rainbows and sunshine, I decided to share this.  Some of it has been slightly tweaked from what I originally wrote in an effort to keep some things private. **

I often wonder how many tears a human being can cry before the tears just dry up all together.  I fear (or maybe hope), that I am close to my quota and that one day I will cry no more.  That the tears will not flow as freely as they do now, or better yet that I will have nothing left to cry about.  No more pain to release, no more fear to face, and no more anger to let go of.  Of the millions of tears I have cried in my lifetime, you would think my well would be dry, but it’s not.

Still I cry, sob, and weep for what I wish were different.  For years gone by that I wish I didn’t remember, and other things I wish I did.  For pain that I could understand and leave all together.  I cry for understanding, love, and compassion.  For things I will never receive from the single person that should’ve been there to love me, protect me, and comfort me.  And while my mind knows these things will never come from the source that I have always wished, my heart still aches and breaks for what I will never receive.

Somewhere in life I found comfort in the discomfort.  Safety in the instability.  It is what I knew, what I have always known.  When things feel too stable and the other shoe has yet to drop, I begin rocking my world to the core so it has no choice but to drop, yet my world isn’t the only one that rocks.  I tend to rock those that I care so deeply for, those I love and cherish more than anything.  Maybe it is a way for me to get comfortable again in the chaos, or to recreate the scene with a different outcome. Creating a familiar scene with different players, providing myself once again an opportunity to change the ending.  Maybe I am learning, then again maybe not.  All I know is when I look back at the aftermath of this creation, it doesn’t feel any better than before. The tears still flow, my heart still breaks, as my mind tries to make sense of it all.  Trying desperately to understand how to heal myself and get back to my place of stability.

The things my mind understands don’t always get communicated to my heart and my emotions.  It’s as if they have a life of their own, spinning out of control at times, while other times they lay dormant looking for the right moment to emerge.  My mind understands individuality and the fact that two people deal with things in their own way.  One fights their battle externally, while others fight it internally.  A relationship of opposites, yin and yang, black and white…balance? I’m not so sure. It sometimes feels like being alone on two different islands, close enough to see, but not close enough to reach each other.  Each dealing with her own demons, yet still separated by miles of misunderstanding and confusion. One sitting in solitude with the world on her shoulders never once voicing concern, sadness, or defeat, slowly burying what will have to be released one way or another.  The other very outwardly expressing pain, fear, sadness, and depression as she tries to find the deeper meaning of life.  Looking for peace and acceptance.  Love and compassion. Joy. Wanting nothing more than to fall into the arms of the other, yet feeling so far away.  Blocked by a fortress of protection.

My hope tells me that things will get better, that this too will pass.  It tells me that peace is waiting and that I am making progress.  That I will continue to heal and the tears will become fewer. It tells me that the connection I so deeply want and need will come back and I will be much stronger than before.  That this is part of my journey and love will prevail. It tells me that if something isn’t growing then it is dying out and sometimes there are growing pains and this is but one growth spurt.  That on the other side of this moment of confusion will be clarity.  A clearer understanding of life and compassion for my journey.  That I will be stronger and more connected because of this moment and all the moments before.  That I will not only survive whatever this is, but I will thrive.

Yet in midst of the tears, fear, anxiety, and confusion I find I have more than just hope, I have faith.