padlocked
There are rooms in me that remain untouched, undarkened, and uncluttered. These rooms are not for consumption, surely not by judgmental, narcissistic souls bound to their own sense of blinding truth. Truth is subjective. It changes according to the tongues speaking it; there is no universal. I keep these rooms pure for those who've always known the weight of my character and who've always been unconditional, not those who--when I make a positive post about a family member who did a kind thing--make their own snarky commentary and accuse the gentle gesture of being a pandering act. Be real. We've all seen my rebellion long enough to know it exists in its own time. I do not rise from the ashes and take those with me who abandoned me when I needed guidance the most. People teach us exactly who they are in those uncomfortable moments. When they show us the first time, we should truly remember. A rage that could shatter concrete could and would one day be turned on me. One lesson for me has been eliminating all addictive personalities from my existence and concentrating my energies on my own healing and health. There is much work to be accomplished.
Addicts are their own category; it's interesting that I've crossed paths with many in my time and bear a vein of it in my family history and those are the very souls I used to attempt saving. Obviously, I've learned that one cannot save anyone else. We can offer encouragement and friendly words to our fellow travelers, even share a loaf of bread and a story for the night. We must not carry anyone else, whether jealous mate, codependent friend, or spiraling family member. We must be compassionate. I remember receiving the news that my former lover, Travis, had committed suicide last winter. I was devastated; we all were. It is a pain that one never fully erases. The comfort is knowing that I had many good talks with him in the years before it happened, and our peace was made. I never said anything to him when he was in a vulnerable state that would have worsened his pain. One never knows how close the barrel is to the lips or how many pills are in the palms. I'm not comfortable with guessing. I am reminded to be as gentle and good as possible in my dealings, and that I shouldn't mistake my own right to my honesty for my words being just. Too much honesty can be detrimental, and one must wonder: to what ends?
I'm dismantling and rebuilding a whole world. Knowing that I only keep those close that have earned the right to be in proximity is sound. I do it (not to protect myself) because everyone shouldn't have that privilege. It must be earned. There is nothing bitter or negative in that, merely crystal realisation. However, it does seem I've outgrown this area for communication. I'll be moving elsewhere. If you've any desire to know where, you could always write me a letter. I love those. I've been writing more--to those who matter--than I've ever written. I'm open in a way I've never been and yet, closed in a way I've never been. It was always difficult for me to completely shut people out if I'd once cared about them, but I'm finding doing just that has been one of the healthiest moves I've made in a long time. I don't need to tend to other people's madnesses, only my own. That's all any of us may do.
Jewel
Addicts are their own category; it's interesting that I've crossed paths with many in my time and bear a vein of it in my family history and those are the very souls I used to attempt saving. Obviously, I've learned that one cannot save anyone else. We can offer encouragement and friendly words to our fellow travelers, even share a loaf of bread and a story for the night. We must not carry anyone else, whether jealous mate, codependent friend, or spiraling family member. We must be compassionate. I remember receiving the news that my former lover, Travis, had committed suicide last winter. I was devastated; we all were. It is a pain that one never fully erases. The comfort is knowing that I had many good talks with him in the years before it happened, and our peace was made. I never said anything to him when he was in a vulnerable state that would have worsened his pain. One never knows how close the barrel is to the lips or how many pills are in the palms. I'm not comfortable with guessing. I am reminded to be as gentle and good as possible in my dealings, and that I shouldn't mistake my own right to my honesty for my words being just. Too much honesty can be detrimental, and one must wonder: to what ends?
I'm dismantling and rebuilding a whole world. Knowing that I only keep those close that have earned the right to be in proximity is sound. I do it (not to protect myself) because everyone shouldn't have that privilege. It must be earned. There is nothing bitter or negative in that, merely crystal realisation. However, it does seem I've outgrown this area for communication. I'll be moving elsewhere. If you've any desire to know where, you could always write me a letter. I love those. I've been writing more--to those who matter--than I've ever written. I'm open in a way I've never been and yet, closed in a way I've never been. It was always difficult for me to completely shut people out if I'd once cared about them, but I'm finding doing just that has been one of the healthiest moves I've made in a long time. I don't need to tend to other people's madnesses, only my own. That's all any of us may do.
Jewel