I think … I’m losing my mind. (Read: this blog will make zero sense).
Or perhaps, I’ve already lost it. I can’t remember the last time I saw it. Or the last place we went. Or what I was doing the last time I had it. But I am certainly hoping it hasn’t been permanently misplaced.I just … I don’t know what’s real anymore. I am having a hard time separating reality from my dreams nightmares. I wake up in the mornings and just lay there wondering which thoughts are a result of my dreams and which are a result of what actually happened the day before. I feel everything and nothing at all at the same time. I’m looking. My eyes are open. But, I can’t see. I’m changing places. I’m getting from one place to the other. But I don’t remember how. It’s like there’s a time lapse between every action. And someone is picking me up from one place, and putting me somewhere else. I feel like the days aren’t happening. Like I’m still asleep.
But it’s November. The clock is ticking, everything around me is moving but I’m standing still. I have been. For as long as I can remember. Every time I feel like I finally understand something, the universe brings me an entirely new perspective that single-handedly dismantles any prior understanding or interpretation.
This must be the point in life where our perception of self and the world around us is completely destroyed and rebuilt. It feels like I’m going through a karmic phase where I am being placed in situations I’ve been in before, but this time I’m seeing it from the other person’s perspective. I’ll find myself knee-deep in recognisable territory–miles away in someone else’s shoes–when I pause, look around, and smile at the universe, saying “I know it’s you. I can see what’s happening here. Lesson learned.” And after this phase is complete, I thoroughly believe that I will be reborn. Just an image of my prior self, but nothing like her on the inside. She will be a better giver, a better coper, a better healer, a better lover…
Or maybe, I won’t. Maybe there’s no such thing as a karmic phase. Maybe this is all just a coping mechanism.
A side effect of the series of unfortunate events that has been my life since graduating university is that my eyes have become wide open. I often tote my soulmate for having opened me up to the energy within and without, for starting the fire that now engulfs me entirely. Though the lesson was hard learned, the timing was perfect. Without it, I probably wouldn’t have made it this far. But now what? How do I move from one reality to the next, if this isn’t a transitory period. How do I muster up the courage to saddle back up and keep treading, when every time I make progress, a wind comes through and pushes me right back to where I started.
It’s like I’m swimming against a current. Kicking, screaming, splashing, exhausting myself and still getting nowhere. The people I’m trying to reach are drowning. They’ve taken in too much water, spread out, drifted, no longer holding hands. Making it difficult for me to save them all. Unintentionally forcing me to choose. All the while I’m wondering why I shouldn’t just stop moving. Not so I will drown, but just to give up and allow the water take me wherever it wants … If I’m losing them anyway.
But I can’t.
I don’t know where I’d end up if I stop fighting. And I don’t know how much longer I can fight. It’s raining. I’m crying. I’ve tasted nothing but salt for months. Adrenaline has kept me paddling. It has kept me alive, stationary. I’m not the one who has drifted. I’ve stayed in the same place. But I can’t reach them anymore. I can only see their pained faces. Years of confusion and anger and hurt written all over it as I struggle to get closer. To save them. It’s dark. I’m guided only by the moonlight. Still swimming. Using all my strength. But not getting anywhere. And as I begin to close my eyes from exhaustion, readying myself to give up, to stop swimming. And try to wish away the pain. I hear that voice in my head, the one I’ve always looked to for comfort, saying:
“Don’t worry. It will be OK soon …
The storm is over.”