I think I need to force myself to write even when I have nothing to say. It’s simply easier to pity those who stumble on this and hold expectations for words laden with worth than it is to feel sorry for myself for my own repression.
Today was a word storing day. Every now and then I seem to collect every utterance… words, whispers, sighs… I tuck them away and reflect in the light of my monitor.
I updated a friend of mine on my divorce proceedings today, which I don’t usually speak much about. When I told her that no matter what was taken from me or how much I had to sacrifice to the undeserving that I couldn’t bring myself to reflect such selfish behavior in retaliation… she looked at me as if I had sprouted an arm from my forehead and did a handstand. I’d be a liar if I said I hadn’t played those games before. I’ve lived most of my life lashing out at those who damaged me. Somewhere along the line, I learned that payback doesn’t get you anything in the long run. The temporary satisfaction in punishing those that have done me horribly wrong always ends up shadowed by the guilt later. I can tell myself over and over that my actions are validated, I can hear it from everyone else… hell, the person I hurt can come back and tell me they deserved what I did… it doesn’t matter. I can’t hang on to my humanity and make deliberate efforts to knock a person down no matter what the circumstances are. It may or may not make me an easier target, but I don’t care. I’d rather be under siege then fight a war with a person who has quickly become dead to me.
As is typical, what is currently at the forefront of my mind ends up making appearances everywhere. one of my patients got me talking about my divorce though not really in detail since I find it extremely unprofessional to drag your personal life into your place of employment. Her final statement of the matter was, “Well, you’re beautiful. I’m sure you’ll bounce back quickly and move on.” Is that so? So I should rely on my looks to obtain a life partner since the ugly ones will fully recover and move on. She herself had been through a divorce and the look of genuine sorrow for the fact I was going through it was a bit unnerving despite the horrifically worded statement regarding my ability to get through it. As is typical with me though, I smiled and told her not to be sorry… these things happen and it really wasn’t going all that badly. She nodded and said, “Yeah, but no one gets married to get divorced.” Ain’t that the truth. I was touched by her concern though… she spoke with her eyes and that’s important.
My coworkers breathe sighs of relief when they find I’m working with them. Even if our personalities may clash or we’re not exactly friendly, it’s known that I’m there to do my job and do it well even when I’m so miserable you can see new lines etching in my face by the second. The patients will never see it, they always comment about my perpetual smile. My coworkers know that I will still help the one who’s floundering even when I myself am buried.
The theme today seemed to be my unfailing sensitivity and dedication to people around me… under any circumstances.
My sensitivity is becoming less sickening to me every day. Yes it burdens on occasion, especially in the face of my willingness to accommodate the individual needs of everyone that steps into my life and the continuing neglect of my own. The smallest things can claw and twist my insides and cause my brain to run circles on itself weighing pros and cons until exhaustion ensues. I beg to the vacant space above my head to just once… please… let me encounter reciprocation in the beautiful way I know it can manifest. For once, I want to leap into open arms and prove to the doubting that under no circumstances would I entice one to reach for me just to have the safety net yanked out from under them. In every last one of my failed friendships and relationships, not one of those people would ever tell you I wasn’t there for them. Every.. last.. one… will tell you the story of the collapse and takes the blame. Most of them try to contact me regularly. I’ve made my share of mistakes and will continue to do so until the day I die… but I have yet to lose my grip on anyone I’ve held close… and I don’t intend to. This is my one pride. Without sensitivity, there is no true dedication. Before my time is up, I hope I’ll have earned what I am so willing to give. I’ll work every day for it. If I never find it, at least I’ll have died trying and hope that in the next life, I can continue moving toward this goal. Despite everything, the hope of this experience will die only with me, never before.