Boxes on a Shelf

This solitude, the isolation, is the only place I feel safe, the only place I feel free to be who I am.  I am so busy trying to fit a role expectation of who I need to be (as defined by others) or who I should be that the world frightens me.  The fear is paralyzing.  I always fail to meet someone's expectations, and that is absolute.  How do I live in a world where the only option is failure?  But here in the darkness, I cannot fail, and yet....I still do.

I don't know who I am outside of those roles others have defined for me.  And if I find out who I am, will I be happy?  It is elusive.  Every time I think I know who I am, who I want to be, the person I want to present as real and authentic to the world, I find out I am not comfortable there, either.  It is easier to be alone.  I know it is not where I need to be, what is best for me, but I can't seem to break free from the chains I have placed upon myself.  I am a coward.  I do not want to face rejection, and so I remain paralyzed in hell.  I must be insane.  Why else would I choose hell over life?

I can't deal with emotions.  I feel them too intensely.  They are raw, visceral.  If you cut me I don't just bleed; I hemorrhage.  Of course, I don't let it show.  I retreat to my private isolation room, somewhere deep inside my own mind.  I pretend it doesn't bother me at all, like I never felt the pain.  I hide it away in a box and put it on an imaginary shelf, left to gather dust.  I forget it ever existed.  And that is a huge problem.  I can convince myself I don't feel pain, I can block it away from my reality, but my soul knows it is there.  My soul longs for it to heal.  I can't heal what I don't remember.  I can't heal what I don't acknowledge.  So I remain an open wound, separated from life, separated from love, separated from salvation.  I want to live, I want to exist outside of my prison, but the chains are so tight.  I am lost.

I am not normal, but what is normal?  I see normal people, I watch, observe.  Many normal people don't seem to have the answers any more than I do.  Some of them wander blindly through their lives, doing exactly what is expected of them each and every moment of each and every day.  Isn't that a different kind of prison? The appear happy and successful, but what are they hiding?  Surely if I can hide in plain sight, so can they.  I hate the tie I have to my physical body, for I am convinced it holds the key to my release.  I feel bound my the chemicals that course through my blood, chemicals that relate to feeling happy, feeling anxious, feeling sad.    I feel broken.  What chemical relates to that?  Are feelings even real if they can be chemically manufactured, chemically altered?  What then, is reality?

I think too much.  I think myself into a hole.  But are these not questions that have been asked throughout time?  What is reality?  Money, fame, success does not equate to happiness and self fulfillment.  It doesn't hurt, either.  My reality frightens me, and so I retreat.  Ask someone else what my reality is and they say I just need to get out more, to socialize, to make friends.  They know what I need more than I do.  Life shouldn't be this hard.  I think I am making it harder than it needs to be; I tend to do that, too.  What do I need to do to make life work for me, since what I am doing doesn't seem to give me what I need?  Someone tell me that!  ACK, all I really want is for someone to tell me where to be, what to do, where to go and how to act so I don't have to take responsibility for one single thing.  Hmmm, that sounds like a different sort of prison. I never was good at following instruction.  And here I am back to the beginning!

What is reality?  What are emotions if they can be chemically manufactured?  What is truth?  What are the lies we tell ourselves to get by another day?  If I lie to myself, then I can trust no one to tell me the truth.  If someone does speak truth, it is just their version of reality, so how can I know it to be truth?  How can I seek answers in a house of mirrors?  These are the questions that keep me chained to isolation.  All I want is truth, yet the truth terrifies me so much I create a false reality.  If the truth shall set me free, why is it so terrifying?

I have seen truth before.  I know truth does set me free.  I know facing truth is a lot like going to the dentist; the anticipation of pain is worse than the reality.  And yet I flounder, I procrastinate.  It is easier to live with truth than lies, yet the lies feel so much more attractive.  When I have ventured off the cliff, leaped into the abyss of truth, I have emerged a lighter spirit.  Freer to fly through the universe, freer to discover who I really am.  So why do I hesitate now?  It is time to change the course of my life, I know it.  I feel it.  I breath it.  But this darkness, this isolation is so much more comforting than facing the next step.  I am afraid the life I am meant to live will somehow be worse than the life I live now.  That is a lie....I know that to be a lie.  The life I am meant to live is a life filled with love, security and purpose.  The life I am meant to live is filled with happiness, peace.  That is the promise of what is to be, and I hold myself back.  I do not feel worthy.  Life is about suffering, pain.   I am only real, only validated if there is pain.  Those are the lies......

I have to believe in myself to grasp the life I am meant to live.  I know the difference between lies, and truth, yet I choose to live the lies.  WHY?  I search my soul for answers and can find none.  I do not find an answer because there is no answer.  There is no good reason for me to stay here.  Staying here is a lie.  Staying here validates suffering only  for the sake of suffering.  I will not be martyred for my pain, no one will call me heroic for suffering.  Is it my intention to spend the rest of my life suffering?  If it is so, then what is the goal?  No one will deem me a worthy soul for it.  No one will recognize my sacrifice.  Living my life as it was meant to unfold will allow my soul to be free of the dark boxes I have placed on the imaginary shelves.  I need to rid myself of those boxes, for they do not protect me from pain, they leave me stuck in it.  I may not recognize they are there, but my soul does and so I retreat away, trying to keep from adding more boxes.  I am out of room.

If I rid myself of those boxes, those wrongs and injustices of my life, does that not leave room for more to take their place?  If my soul can hold no more torment, than how does torment keep finding a spot to reside? Time to clean out the closet.  If I forgive, forget and release all that has hurt me in my life, I open up room in my soul for the light and love I deserve.  I know the words, I know the drill....but can I do it?  Can I open my soul, releasing all that has hurt me, allowing space for goodness and light?  But I like my closet, I like the darkness, the isolation.  How do I know I will not like living better?  I love with all I have, leaving nothing left for myself, and that is how I have arrived in the dark.  I know now I need to love myself with that same passion.  I need to keep parts of myself for myself.  I cannot give to others until there is nothing left of me.  I have learned.

So when will I step out of the darkness.......