Jun 2, 2012

I'm Here

I don't know where I am.

But it hurts.

This last year, there have been conscious moments of shutting off, of pushing away, of stuffing down the larger thoughts and emotions. It was easier. Easier than facing that same painful restlessness of two years ago. Easier than trying over and over to explain what seems so incredibly inexplicable. Easier than studying chemistry or philosophy through tears. Easier than being aware of my own soul.

It started last May on a couch with a remote in my hand. I knew it was happening, and I was grateful for the knowledge that I could escape, that I didn’t have to face my heart. Because it was easier.

But I think my escape plan got carried away, to the point where it was no longer a conscious effort to find respite, but instead a new form of existence. In reexamining the last thirteen months, there have been frequent and extended periods of numbness. And to the untrained eye, I'm fairly certain this has been difficult to distinguish from my even-tempered, laid-back attitude. But when I have to sit and feel my stomach churn, my pulse quicken, and my breathing become shallow, all to determine what emotion I must be feeling…something is most definitely off. Have I really become so removed from my heart?

This quarter has presented a shift, though. And it hasn't been easy. Beginning to live in reality again has been taking its toll on me. I think that's why I'm here, hurting.  I think that's why my mind is so very scattered and unfocused and confused. Because I have all this pent up feeling and thought that is begging for attention and consideration, and meanwhile my pile of textbooks and notes screams out emphatically that this is no time to neglect it. Seeing as how I'm now in my final five days of sophomore year, that pile has a point. But it is exceedingly difficult to direct my mind as wholly to the tasks of academia as they require when the floodgates of my heart have finally burst open.

I think I need to work on my timing.

At this point, I don't have any eloquent conclusions to draw from this. I'm sure I could write out something that seems thoughtful and fits beautifully with these feelings and words, but I know it would be trite, not genuine. Because the fact of the matter is that I haven't a clue where I am in my heart or in my head.

But wherever I am, let it be known that I'm there. Here. And from here I can see the sunrise, and I know that whether easy or difficult, today is a new day.


  1. I can definitely empathize with you in this. It's been all I can do to go from day to day this past year. Hopefully, my return to WWU next year will give me some kind of direction. I'll be keeping you in my prayers.

  2. I'll be praying for you, too, Michael. I hope we both discover what it is we need to find or learn.