The Screams We Silence…

…And the ones we let go.
Laying here at 4am, I realized something about me. 

I am thinking of a pain, a pain I took from someone else and told him he didn’t have a right to it. I very selfishly made a shared pain my own, to no real end. 

I took that pain, and I opened the bin of feeling and I shoved it down, stuffed it way down to the bottom. 

I covered those feelings with life and escapism, alcohol and bad dreams. 

I figured I could always outrun it without really trying. 

Sometimes, sometimes it manifests as two and a half weeks driving around Ireland, solo, pretending I am escaping another, fresher pain. However, I know one is related to the other because I created it that way and never really denied it.

Or…

It’s running off to Iceland for two weeks…

…next up is Greenland. 

And I get why.

Because when it’s cold, with a chill that sometimes remembers to cut through you, you are numb. You don’t have to feel. You can scream out over a frozen tundra and it won’t echo back. Frozen, blue and silent too. 

You get used to it.

I did this once, with a different pain, to the mountains of Greece. Camping and adventuring. The problem, however, with mountains is…

…they echo back. They will tell your secrets. It’s as if your pain won’t let you escape. 

You can’t escape it anyway. 

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Let Me In…

…Let me out.

Just so you know, I know.

I’ve always known.  I know what you did.
And, after I saw you, I know YOU know I know.
Brilliant.
Your awkwardness and bee-line to be anywhere else, except in that space, told me everything I needed to know.
Your reaction showed me your guilt and your shame.
You wear it like your new skin, which really, is just shedding of your old skin
– your true skin,
Who you are underneath the stories and masks and pretense of goodness.
Decent people don’t wear virtue as a means to an end.
So quite pretending that’s a label you can wear
It’s haute couture to your thrift store design and I’ve never been so bold (or tacky) to directly ask.
I can’t even take when it’s given. 
I am so broken by experience I can’t trust what’s in front of me, what’s in the moment or even what I know to be good.

It Is In The Silence….

…Or, the place we hear the screams the loudest…
…All the places we hear the screams.

People always say they care…

….And such a phrase is supposed to matter.

However, I’ve noticed the silence more than the shouting (especially when I am the one shouting).

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Slow Yoga And Daddy Issues…

…Or, so-called personal short-comings…

So in yoga you learn to release your ego to gain your greater good. I think, sometimes, in our dealings with others, it is ego that gets in the way. Dealing with those who test us, teaches us… or so they say.

Maybe people test us so we can learn what bothers us about ourselves, rather it be a trait we have that we don’t wish to see amplified, or one we *wished* we possessed.

So, this brings me to the topic of today’s post…

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The Scariest Things…

..Are those which we hold inside.

I have had a lot of shit happen to me over my life – a lot of (maybe) negative shit that people sometimes say “I can’t believe that happened” – But, the truth is always stranger than fiction. Always.

I generally get over  (“find the good”), I have forgiven a LOT – I have forgiven things that would NEVER be on other people’s radar, ever (nor should they be).  I had a roof stolen.. no, seriously, ACTUALLY, let that sink in… I HAD A ROOF STOLEN – those are word that should ever be spoke, let alone be someone’s reality.
(I am sure, at some point, I did in fact write about this – I am not revisiting it now – if it exists, it’s likely under the ‘forgiveness’ tag) – this is not the current issue…

.. the issue is the thing I might hate you for….

….and I rarely use the term hate, and *never* lightly…

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Officially Unoffical…

…Or, believe it as you will.

I sometimes think my posts are a lot of whining and bitching. Perhaps they are, maybe they are not. The fact of the matter is, I post here because it is anonymous and I post to sort things out in my head. I really don’t care for whining, or carrying on about things past – but sometimes you have to purge, sometimes you have to vent and work through things to be able to let things go.

This is my place to do it…

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Eyes To See…

…And that which is obvious even to the sightless.

Recently, I had released emotions regurgitate, much like the overindulgence of a night meant to be forgotten.

Ideally, when we think thoughts (read “of people”) we would prefer to not think about, we’d like to switch to “off” and not even deal with it. In being human, however, it is never that easy.
The best of intentions and the best of conclusions still come with baggage.

Sometimes the thoughts creep in, regardless.

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