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Reflections and ruminations from a modern day Alice - Life is Wonderland |
How do I protect my heart from this creeping black tide? I feel it…waiting to be acknowledged, waiting to be welcomed, waiting to engulf me. I want to be angry because there is a kind of strength in that, a power in rage. But the anger always gives way to sadness, a bone-weary grief that makes me feel like a hollow vessel. Anger is a bright flame, a space where I can catch a few breaths before the suffocating blanket of grief covers me again. If I could live my life in those airy pockets between those hot flashes of rage, I might stem the tide. If I could find comfort in the excuses and just accept what is offered and have no expectations of more…I might be able to escape the erosion of my love and faith. I might be able to dam my heart against that corrosive obsidian tide. But, then that nagging question…why do I deserve less? And more importantly, why does she? People are not disposable. Indifference wounds the soul in ways I have learned, can not heal. I have come to loathe that part of myself that yearns for connections, that clamors for attention, that cries out to be seen, that seeks to matter. It makes me vulnerable. It makes me weak. I don’t want this for her, to be forever seeking and always disappointed. I do not want her to be the one looking in the mirror and asking, why not me? What’s wrong with me? How do I teach her that even though she is so worthy of more, she needs to learn to accept less with grace in her heart? How do I teach this lesson when I have failed to learn it for myself? How do I explain that some people are limited, incapable of loving more, even as she has so much to give herself? How do I encourage her to love with her whole heart when she barely registers on the hearts of others? Most importantly, how do I explain that the limitations of others is never a reflection on her? I don’t want her to turn that same indifference and disappointment into self-doubt, or insecurity or grief or rage. I do not want her to suffer as I do. I do not want her to find refuge in the anger. I do not want the same black tide to perch in her soul. |