My quest for enlightenment

I wish I was more insightful and profound. I'd like to fancy myself an educated woman with a good head on her shoulders. Pick an adjective that describes a down-to-earth person with common sense and an original idea to his or her name, and that describes me. Well, I'd like it to. But as the days progress, I'm wondering if that's an accurate statement or a very frivolous folly. Have you ever felt that way...whoever you are? Have you ever wondered if the image that you have of yourself is accurate or just your ego constructing a cruel illusion...or is it just me? For the longest time I thought that I had lived life to the fullest. Loved and lost, dared and dreamed, failed horribly and succeeded beyond my wildest dreams. But as soon as I look back at my life, the second I look around me, people seem to have escalated to this pinnacle so far above me, where they understand human nature and the way things work and I feel like a baby, like all my experiences count for nothing. There is an antecdote, that reads "a man does not make the journey, the journey makes the man." Life is a journey, one on which all of us venture, but what is the final outcome if the journey is not a rigorous one? What if, instead of being met with obstacle after impending obstacle, the path is smooth and paved and relatively easy to travel? Are you less of a man at the end? I don't understand. I don't know. I wish I did; I wish that God or someone with a bit of enlightenment could give me the damn cheat sheet. God please give me strength. And a rocky path ahead of me. Thanks.

Step I: You Are Broken Down Until There Is Nothing Left Except A Foundation

Slightly before Thanksgiving my little sister died. When she was slightly past two years old she was diagnosed with terminal esophageal cancer and was given approximately three months to live. She lived to celebrate her third birthday and several months past that. The day she died I boarded a flight to Salt Lake City, Utah, and spent slightly over three weeks at a clinic because I felt like I was on the verge of a breakdown. I had gone to this clinic once before because I had felt overwhelmed, but it was only for a couple of days and I didn't seek counseling from any of the doctors, simply a refuge away from everything and everyone where I could gather my thoughts and come back composed and rested. The first attempt seemed to fail as I lasted only over a year before I found myself back at the same state as before; so I made appointments with the doctors for this time around. We talked a lot, in private therapy and group therapy sessions; so many people from all over the country felt the same imminent meltdown that I felt, and we vented and we released and we broke down. I didn't think I was that damaged a person before I went there, but I just broke the fuck down; years of repression and pent up rage and hurt spilled out and I felt drained and exhausted and overcome with mixed emotions. I felt glad that I was able to release it all but past demons came forth with a vengeance and took no prisoners; I felt guilty for some of my feelings and ashamed and I would be sitting in the big maroon plastic chairs just bawling my eyes out. I wanted to feel vindicated and validated and I wanted someone to tell me why no one seemed to care and why no one stayed around. The doctors felt that I had no sense of self worth and terrible self image; and that unless I changed and began to view myself in a more positive light I would become a lost soul destined for substance abuse and a life unsuitable for anyone. Daily practice was emphasized, I would stand in a room filled with people, fellow patients and administrative staff, and I would read out letters that I had written to family members both living and deceased, former loved ones and friends whom I was no longer associated with. I would read out how I was hurt and angry and I didn't want them to pity me nor did I want acceptance I just wanted them to tell me why because up until this point I blamed myself and I hated myself for not being good enough. I never made it very far into the letters and a couple times the orderlies sedated me until I overcame my state of shock and grief. I talked to a friend of mine about it last night. He listened as I talked and talked all my anxieties and phobias and neuroses flying out like projectile weapons and he suggested that I move; that I leave all of this behind, because where I live and who I deal with on a somewhat daily basis is a toxic environment and how I need change to leave this "limbo of perpetual depression" and until I find a change, I will be stuck there forever. It was my turn to listen, and I took everything he had to offer to heart. I just don't know where to go. I had wanted to go to Arizona for multiple reasons, but now I don't think that's an option for me anymore. Mike, Ricky, Rechard...each one a reason why I at one time wanted to go, but now a counter-reason. I would hold Mike back from all his potential and his future and I can't live with that; Ricky once said that he would be there for whenever but now doesn't want anything to do with me and that is a friendship I know cannot be salvaged..and then there's Rechard. I'll always have a place in my heart for him but he's not there anymore and I don't know how to be in a place so close in proximity to someone, but so far apart and detached on all levels. Right now I'm looking eastward...I was planning on selling my property on the Island but now I'm not so sure about that...planning is in my not-too-distant future and I need to come to a decision soon. My reason for staying is buried now, and right now all I have are reasons to leave, and each day a new reason is added. My time's up.

Human Bondage

I love people. Life itself is such a phenomenon  that even after twenty years on this earth I still find myself boggled by it. Not sure that I'm trying to understand it - I'm nowhere near smart enough nor capable to wrap my mind around such a concept. But still. As I type this I'm sitting across from an older man on one of the library's computers, updating his iTunes library. Flesh expands and contracts as sinew undulates around a skeletal structure. Small hairs varying from dark black to pale gray shoot up his arm to his hand, and the skin tone gains hints of red, becoming a pale blush color. All these organs and glands and follicles and nerve endings are useless components when they're by themselves; no more than piles of rotting flesh. But a spark was breathed into this heap of tissue and a circuit was formed, blood rushed and an automaton became so much more. It sounds voyeuristic and I can't help but watch people as they walk past me. Observing movements, trends, and a brief part of evolution. Life is a beautiful blend of tangibles and intangibles, the science that dictates us all and the creeds and time lines that allow s to brake molds and evolve within a lifetime.

Personal Jesus

I'm filled with this overwhelming sensation that I'm not quite in touch with reality. All these people are saying that my lifestyle isn't realistic; that helping people isn't realistic. Why? Because I'm depressed. Of course I'm sad, my God, I don't know how many people in my situation would be perfectly happy, am I so deficient? Is my sadness an overreaction? My head is throbbing with all these thoughts, all these words are constantly being dissected and probed and analyzed and I have no idea what I'm doing wrong. Can you help people when you're sad? Do you have to crawl into a rock until you're fully recovered? Why do people look at my attempts at philanthropy as me flailing and nearing a chasm? Is it so wrong to try to help people? Do my actions need to be validated to be unselfish? I don't see actions with intrinsic and extrinsic values, I try not to because that just makes everything more confusing...even more than it already is. Why does this bother me so much? If my actions are flailing...then it means that I need redemption; if they're simply for intrinsic value than I'm not really a good person I just need gratification...so I need to believe that I'm neither close to a melt down nor that I'm a truly empty person. I get why it bothers me now.

Miss Murder

I sent my little sister to chemotherapy yesterday. I can't sleep. I know that the procedure is supposed to help her but why can I only seem to see that I've condemned a three year-old to months of intense sickness and exhaustion and pain? For the longest time we had opted to get Her alternative methods of treatment but recently the doctors have noticed new tumors forming in other areas of the body, and they suggested a bone marrow transplant. Luckily I'm a perfect match but in order for the transplant to occur She needed an extensive session of chemotherapy. God help me She's so sick and She's so pale and I hate seeing Her like this. Was it right of me to schedule the procedure after Her birthday? For the rest of Her life will She only know happiness as the harbinger to sadness and pain? Why did I do this.....please forgive me.

Minus the Complexity

I hate rules. Absolutely despise them. Sometimes I fantasize about a world with no rules - just complete unbridled freedom. At the same time, absolute freedom would create anarchy and pandemonium and the world as we know it would cease to exist. Imagine a world where no one cared about the bills or the obligations that they needed to fulfill to society, would life be one big party or would it be the harbinger of an apocalypse? The same question could be applied if one abandons the rules that dictate their personal life. If you could do whatever you want, say whatever crossed your mind, and take part in each and every vice you please...would this be better or worse?

Like I Was Prematurely Awakened From A Dream

There’s so much on my mind that I want to get out into the open but I can’t because A) not only will I sound depressing, B) I will come across as incoherent and mildly retarded and C) I honestly don’t know how to get it all out. This whole writing process is supposed to be cathartic but all I feel is confusion and regret for eating a whole plate of General Tso’s chicken for lunch...the writing doesn't cause the regret I just thought I would be one hundred percent open with how I’m feeling. Possibly too much information, I don’t know. I feel pretty confused to be honest – when did people start thinking that life would become perfect and carefree when they struck the lottery? What happened to wanting to be a ballerina or an astronaut or a fire fighter? It disappoints me when I hear so many people only want money in their lives, and I hope that some of them aspire for bigger and better things beyond it – but at the same time I can’t talk or criticize because I’ve never felt that hunger that some of them do, and for me to even sympathize would be condescending in a way. So….I sit and I observe. I do love watching the definition of the human condition re-write itself as time progresses.