Fear is a Liar

I must stay focused.

I must care for myself, teach my little one, support my love, and find the balance of keeping my existence where it needs it to be without sacrificing too much or giving to little. This balance of life isn’t one for the faint of heart. I strain against this balance because I can feel these snares plucking at me to weave with my demons. I feel the creeping of loathing myself and wallowing in the hopelessness of life and running from any glimpse of healthy help because I don’t deserve it and using and lying and cowering in dark corners and snapping the heads off those who try to convince me that life is worth living; doing literally whatever the fuck my impulses want to do regardless of folks I intangle and choke, or trouble I cause myself or any human in the briar patch. There is a vine of me that wants to give in, because that vine of me feels all this destruction is truth; but I am stronger, and more than anything my true self yearns to be the healthiest version of a human I can be and care for my little one and for my love in ways that inspire them to want their health and life to be at one together in love. I am meant to live - not just crawl through the swamps of wet wool blankets in one hundred percent humidity merely surviving. I don’t want to live disgusted with myself, avoiding myself, running from my existence every moment of everyday with any drug I can dig from the mire; be it synthetic or human, or adrenaline inducing, simply anything to escape from the pain no matter the toxicity. I want always to be growing healthier, more polarized, for myself, my heart holders, my third crag from the sun and all her holy inhabitants. I don’t want to be kudzu that is forever smothering all around me in every sense of the word.

Why do I feel this?
Pain. We all are all hiding from pain. We choose to ignore the pain instead of mending it, and we become bitter, angry, selfish, apathetic, and care subconsciously solely for the pain inside us and the endless game of hiding from it. If we were to chose wisely we’d choose to see the pain, give attention to the pain, and work to heal the pain; alas then we would find love for ourselves begin to grow, love for others and our planet grow, and find a hope for life unfold as an unlying current of living blooms. Healing our pain is terrifying - this is why we run from it - acknowledging the pain, giving it our attention, it makes you finally meet the pain and feel it in all its sharp raw edges, and it fucking hurts. We are scared because we don’t want to hurt. We are scared because we know healing our pain is an arduous adventure to pilgrimage upon. Healing our pain takes heavy amounts of time, strenuous effort, and courage beyond what we think we have. We are fearful, short lived, lazy, cowardice folks who are professionals at running from that which scares us, and living in our own personal versions of hell we’ve grown here on Earth. We hold the water to quench the flames, and create our own personal gardens of eden while rising from the ashes of that which we fear the most, and living our short glorious lives painfree, as our own heroes and saviors, as we bravely face the giants of fear inside one day at a time. It’s all up to us with the support of life around us, each individual, to face our fears of healing our pain, and growing the garden we wish to live in. No one can do it for us - it is our own adventure to take, our own path to forge, our own life to grow. We must simply decided to fucking do it.

Haləy/∆