Paulo Coelho says that writers can only write about themselves. And he does. His journey through life. I would be naive to think that I am the only one who totally agrees with Coelho. His pen is truly mightier than his sword as a Warrior of Light. I can only dream of such brilliant talent.
In my silence, I have struggled to find the words to speak my truth. Not for lack of words in my vocabulary, but more because I lacked depth of understanding of what I am going through. Some call it midlife crisis. Others term it as pre-menopause. Experts blame it all on hormones. I, on the other hand, only know of one true thing. I am changing.
Apart from the physical signs of aging, I feel different. I think different. I know of things I don't yet know and don't know the things I know. I can't explain it. Maybe because I'm still not done. I've not reached the end of this path. And as much as I'd like to share my experience with those whom I love, I cannot. To bare my soul will be to open the door for criticism and judgment. I have enough of those within me to last my eternity.
Although some may have their own thoughts as to my choice of companion (which, by the way, are Coelho's books), I care only for my own opinion of myself and of my own needs. After all, Coelho did articulate it perfectly by saying a reader buys whatever that reflects his/her state of mind or the status quo. My spirit is intact. It is my body that is going out of control. And I'm neither here nor there. I am not in a limbo of sort. Just in progression towards something I have yet to discover.
In my solitary introspections, I've learnt that I have never been faithful to myself. I have always strived to please others, fashioned my life to the approval of others. To conform. Just to have a sense of belonging, after which I will leave behind in search of a new sense of security. Safety. Can it be found in the darkness of solitude? And yet I have fear of loneliness. How I contradict myself continuously. Maybe its time for me to have a session with my supervisor. Maybe he can help me sort things out in my head. And still I won't be able to tell him everything. I simply cannot do that. Am I seeking understanding from him? Or just a confirmation that whatever I am going through now is normal and nothing out of the ordinary? Maybe all I need is for someone to assure me that I will be alright in the end and not doomed for hell fire. That's the tip of the iceberg for you, Freud.
Here is why I am writing this entry. A note for my loved ones and for those who are sincerely concerned for my holistic well-being. A message in a bottle from me on a stranded island:
You may have not seen me as often as before. You may not have heard from me as frequently as once upon a time. I am still alive. My soul is, that is. I'm not quite sure what the hell my body is going through. And in that process, my heart and mind gets dragged along this arduous journey. This tempest within me can only be stilled by Him. In His cocoon, I am safe from harm. That, I have full faith.
But I need to be away to sort things out. I need to find out who I am now. The me you've grown to know and love, has expired its shelf date. I've been marked out. To partake in my life right now will prove to be toxic for you and our relationship.
What was once acceptable to me no longer applies true. What used to annoy the shit out of me is now, somehow, less offensive. I guess my life is being reviewed and revised. The process is painful but necessary. I don't expect you to have the patience of a holy saint, to wait for me to come around. Please do carry on with your own life. We'll see how things are upon my return. If things we've had in the past still maintains true, so be it. If not, we know its time to embrace change.
I have learnt that I have been carrying the burden of my past on my shoulders, with a horrid garland of guilt around my neck and a crown of regrets upon my head. I cannot do that anymore. I am weary of having made bad decisions that may affect my present and my future. Right now, nothing works for me. I have to take my life apart and take a good look at each individual parts that makes up the whole of me. I have to clean every bit before putting things back together again... Not in the same way as before, mind you. It would have to be the way that suits me best now. The me that I am soon to become.
I pray for you to have patience and trust in me, that I know what I'm doing... even though, at most times, I am totally clueless. I embrace my ignorance with a shawl of curiosity and pray to God that this won't get me into further problems. I should think what I have on my plate is pretty overwhelming already, as it is.
I pray that when I am through with this journey and I reach the other side, I can still be accepted, respected, loved and understood by those who matter to me. By the very least, I would pray for my own conscience. May I be able to accept who I become when I reach the end of this meandering path into the forest.
I'm sorry I am not able to remain the same to suit your comfort zone. I'm sorry if it proves to be a challenge for you to categorize or label me into whatever method of processing you use to make sense out of everything and everyone. I'm sorry if I can't be there for you in your time of need. I need me more than anyone else, right now. And If I can't be here for me, I can never be sincerely there for anyone else.
You may not understand what I am going through right now but your turn will come, sooner or later. Be kind, so you will receive kindness when its your turn. You will find kindness most comforting and reassuring.
Thank you for your time in reading my ramblings. I hope to return the favour in future to come.
"In my case, I did the only thing I should have done, or use my writings to get to know myself better.." - Paulo Coelho