this is almost now

July 2008
It feels awful being me sometimes. My little brain gets in my way. It lies to me. It creates monsters from little things or out of nothing at all. Learning to quiet the voices, learning to let go has not been easy. It's still an effort, and I'm still learning.

I've been working so hard for almost three years, harder than ever, and it has felt horrible, ugly, and painful. It has felt as though my deepest stuff was tapped into, opening up thick, black ickyness. There have been times of such despair I felt like giving up, but there have also been some lovely moments which have kept me going.

What pushed me onto this part of my journey has been challenging all by itself. It has haunted me, been on my mind constantly from whispers in the background to full on screaming. I have felt trapped in a prison of my own creation where I've struggled with it and suffered over it. What little respite there has been has been found in sleep, for curiously I never once dreamed about it.

I tried everything conceivable from ignoring it to pretending it's not there to fighting it to torturing myself with it. None of these tactics worked for very long. I felt that the only option left aside from leaving was to come directly to you, talk with you, ask you questions, and open the door to sharing it with you, but this has meant turning some of my belief systems upside down and inside out, changing almost everything I have felt about it.

All of this that I've been doing feels huge. It is huge. Maybe I'm discovering a part of me I didn't know was there which could be really nice, but I can't say I feel secure in it all. I feel unsure about it all. I still feel conflicted, and I don't think I'll ever feel okay with you looking at pictures when I'm right here, in the other room, or outside in the garden. This just doesn't feel good at all.