It dawned on me today, I’ve isolated myself from myself. The inner bitch that protects me from others, also protected me from my true nature. I’m a very giving person, she kept me from giving too much, even though she came off as extremely selfish. I don’t know why I alienated her, she never deserved it, and she stood her ground pretty well when someone else tried to evict her from my conscious. But I’m the one that betrayed her. I stopped talking to her, in an effort to grow into the person I figured I was to be. I started giving to everyone, except myself. Least, in the emotional sense, not the material sense.
In coming to work today, I realized that I wanted to do nothing but break down in tears. But again, I had clients who needed me, my priorities were again, outside of me. It’s a bad habit I’ve developed, in effort to keep myself alive, literally. Many a time, have my starts at suicide been broken by the fact that my cats are dependent upon me, not anyone else. I think if they were removed from me, it would break me because they are the one thing that I really consider when I’m in those dark spaces of myself.
But along that, I’m also becoming numb again. It’s an endless cycle for me, mainly due to it’s easy nature as a catch-all for dealing with emotions. I’m a bit overwhelmed by everything, ready to cast aside any relationship, including those I seek for greater than their current existence. I find it easier to just cast them aside and let them slide down into the mud pit of non-existence. It’s easier than having to decide if what I see there is what is actually there, or if there’s some hidden meaning attached to it. When I take things at face value, I tend to find later, that I missed a clue that I was supposed to get. When I take things at a literary value, I find that those are the times when it’s only what I see, that I am supposed to see.
I live my life in my heart. One of my clients pointed that out to me the other day. And it’s very true. My downfall is that I care too much. I feel too much, and I don’t know how to deal with it. I know all the emotions, especially anger – and probably more than most of my friends know it. I know love, I know when it hits me, and I know when it hits me hard. Which is one of the boots that kicked me into the abyss this time around. The things we do for love. It’s maddening because it makes us do things that are complete antithesis to who we are as an individual. It makes us stupid and it gives us our greatest fears. It turns us to blubbering fools when we should be concrete against an invading body. But, on the other-hand, it also sparks us to go beyond who we are and what we are capable of. It pushes us to be better, to put our lives in the hand of s/he who has also placed their life in our hands.
But is that really all there is?