the quickening

i don't understand why i feel like i'm constantly losing and finding myself. over and over again, i can feel the tides inside of me turning, rising and falling, my stability cresting and bottoming out. one moment i feel strong, confident, like a force to be reckoned with. the next, i'm in tears, curled up in my own misery, wondering who in the fuck i am and where i am going. i bring amazing people into my life and then manage to find the perfect way to sabotage my happiness by being an utter and complete asshole. i say stupid things. i make idiotic moves. i find myself mulling over why things don't work out for me. never do i take responsibility for them. i hide myself from my dreams because i'm just so goddamned scared of failing that i don't want to even attempt trying to make them reality. i write, but show no one. i take pictures and hide them in boxes. i sift through atlases, planning my next getaway, but i never leave.

a very distinct memory came back to me last night. it was a fleeting flash of a promise that i made to myself a long time ago. i was lying on a hospital bed, in the most vulnerable position i have ever been in, the core of myself being slashed and harvested for garbage. in the midst of the druggy haze, i recall staring at the map on the ceiling, the words of a tori amos song being whispered into my ears.

"i haven't seen barbados, so i must get out of this."

my only visual memory is of staring at the UK, the island where my mother went to find herself after her body was ravaged by disease and hate. i remember thinking "i haven't been to london, so i must get out of this..."

well, it's been three years, and i haven't been to london. i haven't allowed myself to love again until recently, and i did a bang up job of messing it up. i've never spoken about what happened, for fear that the people around me could never deal with the intensity nor the depth of my pain. i bottled up all of my hurt and shame, tears and anxiety, loss and regret and i pretended to move on. i bit my lip, sucked it up and kept on marching. that's when this dull ache set in - a slow but steady throbbing which blindsides me without warning. i can go weeks, months without feeling it and then, out of the blue it grabs me by the throat. it seizes me up, bashes me against a wall and says "remember me? remember how you fucked up? remember what you threw away? here you are, living the big life, when you're an irresponsible shit. you don't deserve this."

you don't deserve this.

you don't deserve this.

you don't deserve this.

then, just as abruptly as it assaults me, the sound of the voice subsides. it lies tucked away in me, fitfully sleeping, until my guard is down just long enough to allow it to strike again. it particularily likes to come out of hiding when i feel that people getting too close, moving into my bubble, making me vulnerable again. that's when i lash out, act like a crazed fool and push them away. i act like a person that i hate, because it's much easier to deal with the rejection if i know that i've been playing a role all along. "he didn't like me because i acted like a fucking retard" is easier to justify than "i was cool, sassy, collected, brilliant and flirty, and he still didn't like me."

the tides rise and fall. the moon waxes and wanes. my feelings surge and retreat.

but do the tides ever turn?