Bullsh*t, you’re not living

You can feel it, can’t you?  That veil between living and dying?  That space of numb where you want to derpaeatelt feel but you cannot. You’re not really living and you know it.  But you keep pretending.  But nothing really matters most days.  You wonder how things went so wrong, how you ended up “here” – exactly where you said you wouldn’t.

You get glimpses – moments of deep feelings, you let your guard down, let the walls fall for a moment, someone or something gets inside.  You see the beauty in someone, the deepness inside of them, the beauty in a flower and the giggles in a wet dog nose.  But then you remember, it’s too painful to believe, to feel and you close off, just as quickly as you opened.

Gone, girl.

Gone.

Where did she go?  Inside somewhere, somewhere it is safe, somewhere she can pretend everything is fine.  Living through books and movies and hoping and wishing but passing by the real opportunity to live, to grasp the moment by the face and scream into it, breathe it in, feel it in every fibre of her being.

Inside, where it’s safe, where she has been drifting a life time.  An auto response, going somewhere else, playing pretend, disassociating from life, disconnecting.  Turning off.  It happens so fast she doesn’t even see it.

One day she realized she’s numb.  You know it, don’t you?  The numbness, the nothingness?  You became jaded.  When?  What happened?  or was it all of it? You don’t believe it’s possible, not for you, this life everyone dreams about.  Although you strived for it, for a time.

Hurt stacked higher and with each one the walls built higher.  This isn’t pretty woman, the hooker usually dies from an OD and not happily ever after in the mansion. Life isn’t all shimmer and roses.  And you’d be stupid to forget that, right?

Too scared to live, to take a chance to have what you want.  Opening up to love, life when you’ve played this don’t give a fuck girl your whole life.  This character is all you know, it’s hard to let her go.  She’s there for you when you need to be someone else, someone who can’t get hurt.

But that’s just an illusion.  It might have been fun in the beginning, when you became her…. the one who didn’t care, who brushed everything off, the “it’s fine” girl who stuffed it all down, pretended and didn’t dare do anything to mess with the “I don’t care” attitude.    You’ve been this character your whole life, she fits like a glove.

Yet you wanted to be seen, for someone to beat the door down, to make it safe for you to be you.  But no one did and you believed they didn’t care but in reality they just believed what you showed them.  And let’s be real, no matter how hard they fought it wouldn’t be enough, would it?

Because it has nothing to do what anyone else does or says.  It’s what we make it all mean.  It’s because somewhere along the way we were hurt in a way that we couldn’t make sense of.  Shutting down became easy.  And easier each time.  And everything that happened as proof that being open is too risky.

Loving deeply, intensely and being all in is scary.  I know.  I’ve been there.  In a world teaching us to hide who we are, go along with, pretend we don’t care, to be the jaded, disconnected one it’s hard to be the one who cares too much.

It’s easier to hide behind the walls, seeking refuge and safety in simply not being there, not being available, not being present.  You won’t be disappointed.  You expect the worst and you see it, you get it and you’re validated even more.

Those walls and barriers protected you from so much when it was necessary but now they’ve become a prison of your own making.  And now you don’t live anymore.  You’re alive, you exist, but you don’t really live.

You watch people living.  You go through the motions. People think you’re living.  But there’s a part of you that’s always unavailable, always untouchable. These walls rob you of your life, your passion, your love, your truth.  They rob you of you.

Everything that goes wrong is a call to wake up, to see that it’s all wrong because it’s a call to live your life, to feel the fear and lean in anyway.  The fleeting moments can become everyday if you let them.

Everything WON’T be sunshine and roses but it’s still beautiful.  The pain and the hurt can be our biggest teachers if we let it.  The off button is easy.  It’s the easy choice.  And if you’re like me, it happens before you even know it, an automatic response, like the headlights coming on at dusk.  It just happens.  It takes tenacity, bravery and courage to stay present when you’ve been checking out your whole life.

I’ve had months and months of living, of being alive only to find myself slipping away at times, feeling my heart closing off, feeling the cellophane life closing around me and the numbness settling in.

Love can be true and deep and passionate when we accept that no one is perfect and we’re all just humans, doing our best.

Openness doesn’t have to be scary when we  realize that so many of us are craving something real, to be seen and understood and accepted for who we are.

Anger has a place and it can change the world when used in the right way.

But most of us are living behind the cellophane walls. We’re hiding, pretending and coping with an off switch that is far too accessible.  We’re working in jobs we hate to pay for lives we can’t breathe in.  We’re sleeping with people we don’t know because we’d rather safety than passion.  We’re living in fear because living truly terrifies us!

The saddest thing of all is not dying, it’s what dies inside of us while we’re alive. I see people everyday not living, not really here.  I recognize it because it’s a place I have so easily gone many times.

The moments I’ve been the most alive are when I’ve been real, honest, open and out of my comfort zone.  Sometimes I climb back into that old persona, that old space, like the faded worn jeans that feel so welcoming.  Just for a little while I promise… I’m tired… I need a break…

But really, I’m scared… scared to speak up, scared to be present, scared to ask for what I want, scared to be too open, to be “that” girl… scared to be me.

We’re not afraid of dying, we’re afraid of really living.

Come back.  It’s scary AF but it’s worth every touch, every moment, every bliss, every pain, every hurt, every real and raw moment that exists.  We truly live when we have the courage to be vulnerable.

x0x0

 

 

 

 

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