The Void

“Pain is a pesky part of being human. I’ve learned it feels like a stab wound to the heart, something I wish we could all do without, in our lives here. Pain is a sudden hurt that can’t be escaped; but then I have also learned that because of pain, I can feel the beauty, tenderness, and freedom of healing. Pain feels like a stab wound to the heart. But then healing feels like the wind against your face when you are spreading your wings and flying through the air.” ~ C. Noybell

I’ve promised myself that I’d allow more time for creative expression. I’m not very good at keeping self made promises. Note to self: work on this.

I recently had a bad experience with one of my guided meditation albums. At first it was lovely: I was in a field and the night sky was faintly hued with purple and blue that swirled about. I could nearly touch it. Then I was back in a nightmare I had as a teenager that has stuck with me. I was in a field near where I lived and it was pitch black. There was a sinister presence near me and I felt it would pounce at any moment.

I opened my eyes and thought to myself, That was unpleasant. I closed my eyes and tried again. I was in a coffin with my father’s bones, then I was back in the pleasant field and my father was standing next to me. Suddenly everything went black and he was gone. I kept crying out to him, “Come back.”  

Needless to say, I didn’t sleep well that night. I cried until exhaustion. I woke up and started crying again. The lonely imagery even followed me to class the next evening. I had to leave in the middle of the lecture because I couldn’t hold back my tears and I couldn’t keep from shaking.

I miss him. I’ve almost forgotten what he looks like and I’m afraid of losing that. The experience leaves me wondering how the loss of one person could leave such a void. His early departure from this world left a hole in the hearts of many and I've witnessed its effects on others. 

I recently thought that I’d love to have all of those memories erased from my mind. However, a friend in neuroscience has proved that what I previously thought was just a cop out that we say to each other when there’s nothing else to say is indeed true: Our experiences make us who we are. There’s a very interesting scientific explanation behind this, but I wouldn’t dream of beginning to describe it because I’m easily confused and not very science minded.

If that’s the case, I’d settle for something to take the pain away. One of the hardest experiences I’ve had in life is dealing with the stigma and stereotypes that are tagged to things like depression and PTSD. Not all wounds are visible and just because you can’t see it doesn’t mean that it’s not real.

The harshest of critics are my family, particularly my adoptive mother. She seems to think the best way for me to deal with this is suppress it and pretend like it doesn’t affect me . . .   I’ve been doing that for years and this is where it got me. Whether it be a personality or generational difference, it is substantial and what comes across as callousness causes more harm than good to me. This is why I don't talk about such things with her. Instead, I admire her other qualities and herein we find our common ground.

 A little understanding goes a long way.

No one would chose to be sad, afraid or drowning in emotional turmoil. No one. I guess my point is to be patient with people like me. We all heal in our own time. Sometimes it resurfaces and the cycle repeats itself. Be kind. Be understanding and know that we are working through it as best we know how.

I have to stand and face the pain sometimes. I don’t like it. I used to think that someone would fill the void for me. I’ve finally realized that there’s no one and nothing that can achieve this aside from me.

“The wound is the place where the Light enters you.” ~ Rumi