My heart is still broken. When I allow my conscious mind access to what is deep inside, I can still feel it. When I quiet myself, I feel the pain, the loneliness I am trying to cover up with life, with adventures, with volunteering, with wine, with friends. It is still there, underlying everything I do. It prevents me from getting in touch with myself, from slowing down and hearing my own heart. It is very deep and colors everything dark purple. How I long to be free from this pain. If I cannot heal, I will never be free. I will need to cover up my interior, to hide from myself, to disconnect. And how can I ever be whole if I am disconnected from myself?
I have been running. I know this. Of course, I have experienced many amazing things and I know I have encouraged many people along the way. And maybe this will just be my reality from now on. But I feel there must be a settled place, a place where I feel good again. I am driving myself into the ground, with no recourse, and I see the end of this road is not a good one. How do I escape from it? How do I find a road that is paved with life, not destruction?
I feel I must make a change, but I am afraid to do it.
I am afraid to face the pain. But if I don't, I am afraid of the ramifications of that too.
And now I am supposed to write, write about Mr. Sugar and Chicken Bone and the adventures I have had, which could be great stuff and should be easy to do. But in order to plug into my creative side, I must brush against that pain.
And in the brushing, all I can do is gather my life-force into my breast and hold it there, away from what hurts. All I can do is retreat.
How can I escape from this miserable prison I am in?
And so off I run, doing anything possible to hide from what is inside.
And those who surround me see my life and envy...if only they knew.