Friday, September 6, 2013

From the other side

A lot of words.  A lot of introspection.  A lot of sharing in this one.  Feel free to pass it up.


I thought I knew myself.

I figured "Hey, I've lived for over a quarter of a century.  I know who I am and where I'm going. I am in control."

Then something happens...and I lost sight of that. The who that I was got shifted, molded, altered.  Into something...unexpected.

Good in some ways.  Not good in others. 

I'm hard on myself.  Who isn't?  I've always seen myself as above emotional weakness (silly me). Telling myself that "I'm smarter than that.  Rational.  Chill.  Relaxed."

But then I suddenly realized that I'm just like everyone else.  And in a terribly prideful way, I resent myself for it.  Because I feel I SHOULDN'T be like everyone else. I should feel this way or that way. 

Being a rational's hard for me to feel irrationally.

So while I've experienced lessons in confidence, extroversion, sociality, etc. I've also learned about anxiety, discontent, loneliness, and all those other things that normal people feel in their normal lives.  It's just that in the past they were a muted presence that I could write off with a good Bon Jovi song or a walk in the woods.

Now...not so much.

Sometimes you live your life in a whirlwind and its not until you've stepped out of the fray that you realize where you were and where you are now.

It takes time to re-orient yourself to your surroundings and to adjust to the new environment you find yourself in.

It's been ages since I posted here regularly.

I think I could fill a book with words on my life in that time.

A book no one would want to read.

I mentioned turbulence a while back.

I feel that pales in comparison to gale I allowed myself to be swept into.

I've experienced selflessness, as well as selfishness.

Contentment. Little things I've never felt before as well as big things.

Learning to let go.

Learning to hold on.

A lot of firsts.

And in that time I developed a new normal.  One I felt comfortable with. Knowing full well that this "normal" was temporary. It had an expiration date. And I was okay with that.  Because it was just nice to have the experience, you know?

Even in that knowledge, one can hope. And have expectancy. A time frame, maybe?


All at once, that normal was punctured.  Slowly leaked out air.

Causing tightness, uncertainty, and a sudden change in everything. Meaning that I had to change again.  And learn a new normal knowing what things could be like.

My relationship glass has been shattered (a la HIMYM) and there is no going back to the normal I had before it all started.

I tried to convince myself that I was more than human.  Better and stronger than the emotions that flooded through me.  What did it matter that millions of people had gone through the same thing and THEY weren't spared the experience?

I had gone into it knowing what it was, knowing it would end, knowing that it was what it was and nothing more than that.

So who was I to feel all those things that are human, natural, and expected?

I tried to turn it off.

And failed.

So I let myself feel.

And started to move on.

Usually I'm pre taking a situation, looking at it from outside myself, evaluating my thoughts/actions/emotions, then rationally trying to work through it.

All my tactics were proving less effective this time.

Hot herbal tea.  Good, soul healing music. A nice long walk outside. Watching the stars. A long drive.

These things used to heal all.

Maybe you come to a place where you see yourself whole.

Normal becomes a possibility again.

(Forgive my random tense changes as I write this...I can't help if. I go from "I" to "You" back and forth.  Try to keep up because I am ultimately talking about me, of course).

You smile for no reason, sing along in the car instead of talking to yourself, get random songs stuck in your head again. Laugh. Joke. Breathe easy. And are generally happy.

You're sure it's real.  You're positive that you have a handle on things.

Then in an instant, all that can change. Suddenly all the ground you gained is lost and you are back where you started when it all first ended.


Because like billions before you, you allowed yourself to hope.  Even just a little bit.  It was enough to taint your new reality just enough that when that hope is extinguished it's all the much harder to let go all over again.

So, I told myself I could let this happen once, but never again.

All the conclusions I had come to, the truths I had realized, the advice I've given was gone in an instant.

You're sitting there and suddenly it's all "Deep breaths, here it comes."

What is it?

I have no idea.  I can't put a finger on it or rationalize it.   But it's there.  This undefinable worry.


A knot in the pit of my stomach that I can't explain.

This isn't me.  The Sarah Lambson I know well is rational.  Stable.  Feels emotions deeply, for sure, but is in control of them (unless she is watching the end of Return of the King or Dead Poets Society).

(allow me to change tenses for a moment)

Suddenly there's the hole again.  Deep in the core of you.  Yearning for something else.  Something more.  Something you know you aren't meant to be without.

All you want to do is fill that hole.  You know logically that this should be possible.  Fill it with the things you love, the people you care about.  Fill it with service.

But you find, instead, that you don't want to do those things you love. Not unless you can do them with someone else.  The people you care about offer welcome relief, but it is temporary.  You can find peace in service, but at the end of the day you must also take care of yourself.  As you are taking care of others who is taking care of you?

These thoughts, feelings, stresses, anxieties.  They used to center around a particular subject.  But lately that has faded into the background and you are left befuddled.  Completely baffled as to why you feel they way you do.

Maybe it's residual.  Mostly it's irrational.

But probably it's wishful thinking. Trying to convince myself that it's nothing to do with what it was about before.  Because I'm over that.  I've turned over a new leaf and discovered release.

But have I?  Is this new found release causing new feelings of unfamiliarity?  Is this experience of letting go leaving me drifting aimlessly?

I was holding on. Tighter than I'd like to admit. It was kind of like Eric (Magneto) holding onto that submarine as it plunges deeper and deeper even though I know I'm probably going to drown.  I finally let go and I'm floating directionless and disoriented in the water.  Listening as hard as I can for that Charles Xavier voice in my head-drawing me back to the surface.  While I'm down here, I can't breathe.  And I have little direction.

I feel like I let myself go in that whirlwind.  I didn't keep my eyes fixed on something still.  And now I'm left discombobulated.  Trying to find something to fixate on again.  Focus, drive, motivation.  What am I moving towards?  Could someone tell me?  Because I've no real idea.

All I know is all I can do and lately it doesn't seem like enough.  It's like I WANT to do all that I can but I keep getting pulled back being told "not yet".

Not yet, not yet, not yet, not yet....

Why is it so hard right now?  Because even a few weeks ago I had times of peace and contentment.  Maybe it was false reality but it was there.  There was something sure about gripping that submarine.  Either I was going to accomplish my goal or I was going to die trying, dang it!

Now as I'm drifting?  I feel discontent.  Unsure about everything.  And that peace just isn't there and if it is, it lasts only moments.  A flicker that burns out quickly.

I know it's irrational.  I know I have no reason to be unhappy. To worry so much about NOTHING.  Or about things that are out of my control.

That's why it's so hard.  Because I don't understand myself.  I can't rationalize through the way that I'm feeling.

Maybe it's because I know I'm waiting and waiting is just about all I can do. I need to wait PATIENTLY and wait well (meaning not just sit here twiddling my thumbs, but be progressively moving upward).  And this is the restless anxiety associated with waiting uncertainly for something.  Like test results.

What are you supposed to do while you are waiting?

When you've been told that ALL YOU CAN DO is wait?

Endure to the end, do all that you already are.  Press forward.

And that's it.

You can't do any more than that.

Patience is one of the hardest lessons to learn.  Knowing that you could have what you wanted if only it were the right time.


Then time moves on.  Little by little you learn what you need to.  Realize what everyone has been telling you all along.  Move on.

And eventually a light bulb goes off and you think "yeah.  It's time."


Things aren't perfect.

I'm okay.

This is all just angst flowing out of my brain and through my fingers.  It's therapeutic.  Putting it all out there because I know others know exactly how I feel.  And this, in some weird and unnecessary way, connects me to those people. 

Helps me relate.

It's why I blog, honestly.

It's not for the benefit of anyone else but myself, really.

This was a doozy.  If you got here, thanks for taking this journey into my brain with me.

I have been so wrapped up in the insanity of the summer and of my emotions I have had no desire to blog.

The fact that I'm here again is a good sign to me.

Even if I do tend to overshare. 


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