Cavern Hunting with Pandora

It’s strange. I find that often if I’m quiet enough, and I listen hard enough, there are still echoes of a cavern in my soul. Of dank, cold water that soundlessly seeps into every crevice.

If you were to ask me if I was okay I would undoubtedly say yes. Because I am, and I’m doing so much better than before. But at the same time I am very much aware that there is a darkness that is yet to be lifted.

I sometimes describe myself as slightly suicidal which sounds like an insult to people on the brink of suicide. It seems like a dichotomy. You can’t be in that kind of a headspace only slightly, you’re probably thinking. It’s something that overtakes you completely.

And you’re right.

But you’re also wrong.

I’m at a place where most of the time I’m fine, happy even. The term mildly depressed no longer fits. I feel somewhat back to an equilibrium. And yet, I know I’m not one hundred percent. Like there may be demons I haven’t wrestled yet. Or worse, like because I’ve visited such dark places, I’ll never be able to fully leave them behind in my memories. Like there’s a Pandora’s box that has been opened and the potential for even denser darkness in the midst of light has been unleashed. I sense there is a kinetic reality whispering around the edges of my consciousness.

I fight these fears with, of all the lame techniques I could’ve chosen, positive thinking. Or better stated, no thinking. Distracted thinking. Since the path to the caverns are familiar, I can notice that I’m heading there more quickly and reroute myself, whether it’s with a trivial thought or an important one.

But I guess I worry that if I use this technique too often I might miss a battle that’s better to be had now rather than later. I’ve dealt with a lot of my issues in the last few years and am still dealing with them. It’s part of what contributed to getting to know my dark spaces so up close and personal. I decided it was time to climb out of the cavern, and when I was going to therapy my therapist seemed very intent on helping me put those thoughts and feelings into perspective. My emotions are valid, but they’re not as all encompassing and overwhelming as they feel. Don’t give them more importance than they deserve. If a thought’s not constructive throw it out. Simple as that. 

Only problem is sometimes it’s hard to tell the genuinely destructive ones from the ones that sting, but are building my character.

There are important things I’ve learned about managing my emotions and I know I can still continue to use them while working on my flaws, but I also can’t help wondering what secret things have slinked out of Pandora’s box that I’ve yet to have noticed. It’s hard learning how to exist in this new version of myself when I don’t actually know all my parts. Meanwhile, other parts I can’t forget and they contribute to my tendency to go cavern hunting. Unfortunately, being honest with myself includes admitting that part of me still savors the option of flicking to OFF, on account of all the beasties lurking in the dark.

Good thing hope is a flame and not an off switch.

~LDA

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Slipping Betweens Extremes

These days I slip between extremes. I go from swiping at the dark thoughts that buzz around my cranium like hungry mosquitoes, to letting them perch on finger to have a drink. I am at once dismayed at the absence of relationships and happy that there is something to be missing in the first place.  To be honest I’ve been pretty skeptical of the integrity of my future relationships since the time I was young, so I’m surprised there is something to long for.  When memories hit I usually can’t tell if I want to cry or laugh.

These usually sound the same these days so it’s becoming hard to tell the difference. And I find that I’m so tired that I don’t much care that I can’t distinguish. All I know is that something from the soul is working its way out of my body and chosen to take the form of creepy weep/giggles. I can’t do much to prevent it from crawling its way out and honestly don’t mind. I’ve learned that stifling monsters just prolongs the process of metamorphosis, and then you have even greater demons you’re confronting instead of beautiful butterflies. Not fun. So out it comes.

I know I’m being dramatic, but happiness and pain often feel the same nowadays, since the one always seems to closely follow the other.  I’m not depressed, but my emotions are fuzzy.

Like sometimes all I can remember is the time you sat watching me eat ice cream because you didn’t feel like eating sweets and I was too much of a prick to actually ask whether you wanted to go for ice cream even though we hadn’t seen each other in months.  My thoughts are like that last sentence: dense, complicated and drawn out.

And every time my left knee aches I remember the time I smacked it against the computer desk as you smirk-glared at me from the hallway. You were probably satisfied I was in pain because I’d forgotten to print my concert ticket and we were already late.  We were almost all the way out of my development before you thought to ask, and you probably only thought to ask because you knew forgetting to bring the concert ticket to the show we’d been eagerly awaiting for months is totally something I would do.  What can I say?  It was my first concert. I was still green and I’m glad I spent that time with you. Even though the fond memory is torturing me right now.

Oh no. Here they come. The if only’s.

If only I hadn’t screwed up so badly by simply being the person I was.  I wonder what our souls will look like in ten years and how far apart.

“What a waste to be so alone. 🎶”

~LDA