I am not broken.
You try to “fix” me,
To plug in different variables
Attempting to solve the problem
Of my discomfort.
I pray your intentions are pure,
That you want to help me.
It seems you want me to “feel better”
Because you are uncomfortable
With my darkness and pain.
I feel deeply.
And this is hard for you.
You see me ache
And you want to stop it.
You see me cry
And you want to make me laugh.
You see me temporarily paralyzed
Merging into the sofa
And you want to get me up.
“Go for a walk; you’ll feel better.”
“Splash some water on your face.”
“Do this. Try that,” You say.
Don’t try to fix.
I am not broken.
Don’t try to solve.
I’m not an equation.
I am stronger than I’ve ever been.
And don’t leave.
Don’t wait for the storm to pass
For when I’m easier to be around.
Stay with me.
Sit with me.
There’s nothing you can say
To change the way I am.
All you’ll do is temporarily turn the switch to “off”
Making the present moment easier for you, and perhaps for me.
But I didn’t sign up for an easy life.
And it will inevitably click on again, sometime in the future,
Where I’ll feel into this depth,
And have a backlog of pain.
So let me feel.
It is my purpose.
This. Is who. I am.
And it’s not to say that I’m owning a title
Or borderline personality disorder
Or general anxiety disorder
Or any label.
I do not call these mine
As they are words.
Handwritten on wooden signs
Forced into the earth
Pointing at me.
I am not my diagnoses.
Just as I am not my name.
I am what is behind these words.
I am what the words point to.
All aimed inward
Pointy sides toward me
Attempting to define
What I am.
“Why are you crying? Why are you so sad? I thought you were better. I thought you were healed.” You exclaim.
Healing is a continuous journey rather than a destination.
And I am here for more than my own pain.
I, as a light worker, am here to shift the collective consciousness.
I am here to change how we feel and how we act with our feelings.
I am here to bridge the communication gap
Between those who experience darkness
And those who don’t.
I watch musicians who are clearly in emotional turmoil,
And the words escaping their mouths are ridden with their pain and depth.
These are artists who, when heard, can also be felt.
Their lyrics cause our skin to tingle and hairs to stand erect.
Their melodies invite tears behind our eyes,
Even if we can’t put words as to why.
Why on earth would I want to numb that?
Who am I to take that from them?
Their darkness and their state of being
Yields beautiful art
That helps others.
They too are catalysts.
I connected with my younger self in a meditation about Divine Play.
I saw her, clearly, blonde curls and a missing front tooth.
I looked at her, heart raw and open and receptive.
She walked up to me,
Wisdom and love in her eyes,
And placed her right hand on my left cheek.
She stared into me
“We have work to do.”
My heart began to weep.
Tears of relief.
Sweat of a marathon run.
As if a download had just finished installing.
And everything clicked.
There is nothing wrong with the fact
That I don’t go out partying
And I don’t enjoy “fun”
In the typical or normal sense.
I am here to work.
Call it workaholism or obsession or rigidity.
I call it dedication.
I call it listening to my inner guidance.
I call it fun.
“You take life too seriously,” you say to me.
I sit with my heart and mind open to you,
Ensuring receptivity to your opinions,
Because I care about what you have to say.
My heart and mind and body are flooded with waves of unprocessed pain
From the collective of humans
Who’ve felt unsafe to feel,
Or who’ve drowned when caught in the undertow.
And yet I,
After my years of work
And diving inward
I sit in stillness.
Holding space for your discomfort.
While simultaneously processing
Deeper pain than you may ever know.
I know that the intensity of my pain
Is uncomfortable for you.
I know part of you wants me to feel better
And most of you wants me to feel better
I ran from pain my whole life.
And it found me.
I had an awakening,
Which I thought would yield bliss and freedom.
I thought correctly,
As it has.
And that open space of bliss and freedom and allowance
Is a perfect holding cell
And processing center
For giant downloads of pain.
I’ve learned to release judgment around it.
Pain doesn’t have to be bad.
My feeling deeply isn’t indicative of a mental illness.
My feeling deeply is a super power.
For as I sit in meditation
As a tear obeys the laws of gravity,
Caressing my face,
That one tear
Holds more pain
Than you may ever know.
I used to envy you.
I used to crave normalcy,
Whatever that meant.
I’m blessed to have the capacity
To be flooded with thoughts
And to still go to the grocery store
And smile at the cashier.
I am strong
In a way that differs from your definition of strength.
You may think I’m dwelling.
You may think I’m taking on too much.
I care not for your labels or diagnoses.
I will listen
And I will not judge,
As I know you mean well.
But you can never truly understand where I am,
Just as I can never truly understand you.
But we can accept one another.
And I ask that you
And trust that
I know what I’m doing
I am healthier than I’ve ever been
I am not broken.