Documentation/Searching

So, I finally received the full incident report from my SA in East Lansing.  And there were fifty two pages of it.  Fifty two pages of so many moments I had tried so desperately to forget.

Speaking of wanting to forget.  Here is what happened today . . .
----

I panicked, sitting inside the room with my therapist.  I panicked as she read over my full incident report of my SA.  I had a PDF copy of it on my phone.  I told her it was okay, because I trust her.  But still during those moments I felt so disgusting.  I know the ELPD has read the forms, and many other people might know about it as well (due to police officers talking about cases).  But somehow sitting there in the same room with someone reading over the details of a night I have never been able to forget or get over, was truly unbearable.  I tried my hardest to sit there and not focus on which details she was reading.  I focused on my feet, and even then I couldn't stop shaking.  I eventually had to briefly leave the room, and try and regroup.

When I returned I was still in the most bizarre head space.  I could not even look up at her.  As she spoke to me, I stayed focused on my feet, and drew outlines on my wrist and FitBit with my fingers, all while trying to push back the tears coming down my face.  I don't like to show emotion. 

The last few days have had that type of intensity.  I have read over the entire fifty two pages.  Over and over again, just trying to find out what I did wrong to have that happen.  And why I was so trusting of people I did not know.  I'm still trying to correct my naivety. 

My therapist told me to print the forms, and then delete the files from my phone, so that I was not tempted to constantly look them over.  She also told me to take the printed forms and put them in an envelope out of site, and locked away.  I just printed them out, but don't know if I can fully delete the files from my phone, nor just lock away the printed copy.  I'll try.  I just know that so far, today, I'm still looking for answers. 

Truth or Nothing

Truth or Nothing

My eyes hurt from crying

My heart hurts from holding it in

And still I can’t tell you

Because I dread the hurt you’d feel

The hurt I would cause if you knew

So I walk past, holding my breath as you ask

What’s wrong?

You can sense something

You must know

Only a mother can notice a quiet change

When did you notice?

Was it when I let out a sniffle?

Said my allergies were the cause of my blood shot eyes?

The eyes that had seen a nonstop flow of salty tears, that forced me to catch my breath

The same eyes that focused on yours, and said I was okay

When did you know?

Do you know?

What do you think was wrong?

Can I even ask without admitting there was something wrong?

My eyes still hurt from crying

And my heart squeezes in anger for holding it in

But I still can’t tell you

Because I’d dread the hurt you’d feel

So I’ll take the pain, just to spare you my truth

Why?

I'm rushing to feel.  Anything and everything -- wanting to know if I'm still even here.
I've felt guilty since that day, and yet I haven't told you.  I can't.
It was my fault for what happened to you.  And I can't bare to think about the pain you've endured.
And why I'm still even here.

I wish I could retrace the moment to where I messed up.  You tell me what I should know: it wasn't my carelessness that caused this.  And yet I just want to take it all back.  I would do anything to see you free from my mistake(s).  I count them all each day.

And I don't sleep much -- not with knowing what I've done, and that I can't go back and undo it.
If we could trade places, I'd be happy to not have even made it out alive.  Just for you to feel relieved from the journey you must endure.  I ask myself each day and night, as I sit alone, why am I still here?

I can't tell you any of this, because I'd hate to see your sadness show.  I don't tell you I've bottled each moment inside, and it pours over every night. So, I try and not close my eyes.

I have thought about giving up so many times.  And then I remember how I'm the rock that you need.  And that you need me because of what I did.  It's frustrating to know that I can't waste away, because I would leave you in even more pain.  But each day I'm here, I'm feeling my self slowly wasting.  If only I could disappear without causing too much of a disruption.  If only I could go away and vanish from your thoughts, your heart, and from your hurt.

I'd honestly take it all -- just to feel your freedom coming back with my leaving.
I try to shake these moments.  These times are constant.
I'll try harder.  I must convince myself why I'm still even here.  
I want to know why.

Reverie by Luchs

Struggling To Manage

I can't seem to close my eyes.  Not without feeling tears.  I only feel tears, and I don't know why.  Why at this moment, or these moments, when I'm left contemplating my existence?  I'm trying to shake it.  These eyes looking down on me -- from within.  Have you ever felt yourself being watched?  But the eyes are your own?

I can't seem to close my eyes.  Not without feeling fear.  I hold onto that fear, and I don't know why.  Why is it so familiar, this scarce plight I search for, but stop before reaching the door?  I'm trying to push past this.  I want to see the other side -- another side from stagnant emotion.

I look up, close my eyes, then take a deep breath and hold it.  I don't want to exhale, but I do.  I avoid my reflection as I stare into the rain formed pool gathering before me. I don't see myself anymore.  I melt into concrete -- into nothing.  Nothing but a puddle of lost hope.

Quick change

I smiled yesterday.
Laughed, talked, joked around,
was happy.
And then I tried to go to sleep, but heard you.
I smelled you.
This awful, putrid, and manly stench.
I couldn't get rid of it.
And I tried.

I tried to hold my breath,
but my tears kept making me gasp for air.
I tried to cover my mouth,
but panic only echoed through my fingers.
Yesterday I was happy.
Now, I can't sleep.

Imagine/Answers

Where do you runnaway to, when there is no way to get there?
How do you justify moments when being with someone, makes you feel more alone then when you're alone?
When can you determine enough is enough? And that it's time to snap out of it?
How can you smile, showing the most pleasure pleasing, gratifying greeting, when you are screaming inside?
And do you even remember that sound?  The scream -- one held in for so long, like your voice, it trembles, as it fights to be heard.
Where does fight or flight kick in to just living?
When can a group of people laughing, not feel like distant chatter, thrusted into your space?
And why is it calm at night, when no one is around, that you feel safe and heard?

Does closeness mean happiness? Because by standards, if it does, then you are one miserable human being.
Does inner turmoil mean you aren't normal?  Or that you are insane?
Because if it does, why would that be okay to show?

Have you ever imagined peace, serenity, adoration, and a slow hug that actually gave comfort instead of cringing?

Or a white space, filled with cool rain, and penetrating sun rays -- holding you ever so close, but not infringing on your beating heart?

Why is falling so freeing? But standing still cuts?  Though every moment changes.
It creates displacement -- uncertainty -- numbness, yet bouts of life.

Your life. Have you lived? Do you even want to?  Or would it even matter, if your split decision changed after permanently deciding?

Have you loved?  Can you even?  How could you, when you can't find the attraction within?  When your own feeling makes you palpitate, do you hold your breath, close your eyes, and wait?

Wait for life to change, or for your mind to say it's okay?

It's okay to not know.  To not know the answers.  To not know why you're even feeling bombarded.  Or why no one seems to know.  It's okay to hold onto your heart.  To yourself.  Even if there are broken pieces.  Hold onto them.  To yourself.

Love. Even when you feel no one can or will love you.  Love.  Love your fight.  Love your light, even while dimming.  Love yourself.

Dead(lines)

If you haven't noticed, there always seems to be quite a gap between my posts.  I've been trying to put my thoughts onto the white space more frequently -- besides what I write for school.  I'm getting there . . .

Most of my time is spent trying to dominate the multitasking and perfectionist side of my being -- which enables me to just focus on what I believe needs tackling the most.  But with my newest blog, Traveling To Me: The Road towards Living (a Dream), I decided to capture each step -- my total process of getting things done -- even the harshest moments.  *spoiler alert*

I will be writing some of the most personal journeys I have taken, am in the process of taking and that I am still in the midst of.  But don't worry, not every writer or composer goes ONLY into the dark.  There is always a ray of sun, somewhere -- lurking, beyond the dark forest in our minds -- those times when life seems bleak, and something pushes towards that breaking point . . . Push back!  There IS a way out.  I am going to try and NOT fright myself from talking about those moments.  And of course, the positive ones too.

 

 

Maybe in the next post I'll write about what made me want to become a writer (of all things: music, poetry, stage, screen, essays; stories).  So, get ready, there will be posts galore -- sooner than you can imagine.  And this time, I'm writing from my core. 

I'm going to leave you with this -- Brain-Matter-Double-Exposure- Song that inspired this blog. To get you in the realm of learning more about me and my writing.

Don't Let Me Be Alone

Don't Let Me Be Alone - Title track that inspired me to record my thoughts.

These past few weeks have been some of the most bizarre times I have had. I guess it started with my third semester residency as an MFA student. Possibly it was because I had to take that trek, the one that I embarked on over a year prior. And after that residency ended, I was back on the move. This time I didn't get to stay put where my heart wanted me to be. This time I was torn. 

As I rode that Amtrack state-to-state, I remembered the adventures I passed up, just by going in that direction.  With only a few days to let loose, I decided to go back.  Visit.  Be around the familiar.  But what to me began as a frightful beginning; my new home away from 'home;' my familiar, had turned into a farewell. I was leaving, again, and this time I didn't really want to. I felt home -- although it wasn't my original place of destination -- it was still safe. It was what I grew to know. And ultimately love. I was taking an oh, so repetitive trip back.

Funny how I wanted nothing but to get away from the same, that I was managing to forget the way out.  I had worked so hard to leave this place, and it took strange circumstances (I'll get into later) to bring me back.  But for how long?  Where was my heart?  Was I to become stagnant?  Could I make a change -- knowing I had, but nobody else did?  More importantly, how was I going to grow, artistically, being back where it started? 

Trust me, these were questions I asked myself as I packed, boarded the train, sat for those 18+ hours and then departed. And I'm still asking them now. Did I get so use to the awesomeness around me after I left, that I couldn't realize the gem that was once there? I don't know. And maybe that's something I need to investigate. I take that back -- that's something I'll totally look into. Because I'm here now, and I have to make it work. I can't afford any more insanity trips (another story I'll get to later), especially with this being the semester before my thesis. So, I have to get to work. Whatever way possible -- I have to make it work. And I have to stop those pestering thoughts that want to deprive me of my next adventure. 

I HAVE TO STAY FOCUSED.

AND CONTINUE LOOKING AHEAD -- DREAMING