samedi, mai 21, 2011

The gift of emptiness

I have felt so empty recently -- and afraid, and, frankly, a little on edge.

The fear was spurred by the ongoing scrutiny, day by day, of someone whose interest puzzled me -- but was not, I am sure benign, like that of the vast majority of my readers.

But I have come to see, am coming to see, that it really doesn't matter -- that I was surrendering power over my life to someone else.

And then there was the ongoing sense of vertigo, the sense that even I was an unreliable partner. "I don't know if it's you I don't trust, because I damn sure don't trust myself" -- one of my favorite Springsteen lines.

But a few days ago, I began to feel the vise around my emotions begin to loosen a bit. I realized that, indeed, I had no power, had no influence, had no control -- that, to crib the Janis Joplin song I quoted on Twitter, I had nothing left to lose (however silly that sounds to my jaundiced middle-aged ears).

It's all very eastern -- and as a driven child of the west, I'm not comfortable living in what seems like a monastic paradox.

But as I began to realize that the only person I could hold accountable was myself, and that I often let myself down, I began to see little rays of sunshine. No guarantees. No promises. Perhaps not a lot of hope. But as I regain the opportunity to enjoy the little moments, I am realizing that maybe nothing left to lose (when it comes to the experiences of the past few months) isn't such a bad place to be.

One baby step at a time.

Tommorow -- what I can dare, and what I am not yet ready to attempt.

1 commentaire:

BigLittleWolf a dit…

I can relate to the sense of letting oneself down. But I think life is so complex these days, and our expectations of ourselves (emotionally, behaviorally, professionally) are simply unrealistic. That doesn't mean we don't strive to do well in all areas (and as ourselves), but sometimes, we can't help but disappoint our harshest critics.

And you know who that is.

I can relate.

And this is one of the reasons I want a quiet place in myself (I've yet to find) - a place of silence (don't want to speak; writing is another matter). It's healing. It's perspective.

It's also nearly impossible to get - in the real world you and I and so many other women/mothers inhabit.