thoughts on being a child, and broken things.

back from a little wander in one of the most beautiful cities in the entire world, I reflect on how I relished the change, being out of my head. on that enrapturing trip, I realised one thing. being free has allowed me to experience being a child again.

an actual child, not the starry-eyed phase. a child that contains so much misunderstanding, inability to communicate and self-centredness. it is not exactly something I like, for my mood turns too quickly for me to deem it safe to lead an actual ‘ordinary’ life. a year ago, I was an adult, navigating challenges in earnest, with such striking stoicism. now, the littlest change in plans may set me up to sabotage a day.

I do not exactly know what is happening, but life on the other side is wildly different than what I thought life would be. there are far too many temptations which makes me pray for a day in my past life, where I had it all under control. there are too many variables, too many choices and the mere responsibility of taking care of my body and my life cripples me with too much to think about.

being outside of my head on that trip was healing, that’s for sure. it took my mind off things to remind me that life is quite simple and the more of it is felt when it is let go of. however, I still cannot let go. it hurts a little. when I plan each day and make my first priority to do well enough, I mess up and I ruin the whole day in turn. it’s like when a child’s toy is broken and you cannot do anything to calm their cries. an ordinary flaw to me is like being broken.

my therapist tells me i’ve got to switch my black and white thinking, but it’s all I know. I wish someone could reprogramme what I’d learned those years of my life. they say that the road to deal with grief is dedicating oneself wholeheartedly to a mission. it did me well, but without it, it’s like losing your supply of addiction. and my withdrawal symptoms are apparent now.

I truly long to be with my learners again. I feel so empty without seeing those children and loving them as if I knew what love was. it’s kind of funny how we can give love to a mission more diligently than we can give love to ourselves. it’s again, all I know. but again, God has led me to this serenity. a quiet, still life with no one to be in service of except few. God made it hard for me to find a job, and even the one I have now does not satisfy me. but I remain patient.

I dream that someday, I wake up and find that I no longer am addicted to something. I dream that I am able to function without having to long for the thrill of being needed. but such changes take time. but I believe they’ll be here someday. looking back, eight months ago, I was truly in some place else. for that, I am grateful for the little steps forward.

that problematic child in me that has never been heard or seen will soon mature and find its strength to withstand the waves of normality. it will find peace in stillness. she will find that she has all she needs right now, in this sacred moment, and that she does not need someone to make her feel needed. she’s alright. she’s enough.

I forgive myself for acting like this. it’s truly the hardest part to see oneself being everything they’re not. I forgive my shadows. that’s how we heal.