Entry #6

   Finding a way though the rumble is difficult - perhaps it would not be so if my own mind was not so filled up with rumble itself. But so it is and through all the debris I try to locate what pieces are still there left to picked up, though I have to admit that whenever I do come across one I spend quite some time pondering over it. wondering whether it's worth the effort to pick it up or if it's preferable to stay without it, even if I remain "incomplete". 

  In the mornings I manage these days to wake up somewhat more easily, even if the nights are heavy. I have positioned my mattress near the window so that when the sun rises its light washes over me. When I get up I drink some water, then pick up the bedcovers and put them out on the clothing lines so they hang over the balcony in the sun. I sit down to read some times, depends on how long I have before I need to rush to work or prepare food or something similar. I put music on, I use my cds so that the computer will remain off. I try to study and to stretch. I try to think my thoughts but not follow them down slippery paths and to reach out a little bit to the people I care about. I am trying to take away things from my house again - slowly but certainty the space is beginning to fill up and it is causing me to feel distaste, the mere thought of having to pack all of them next time I leave is giving me a headache. At the same time, I kind of enjoy having this space - some days it feels more like my home. 

  It's a bit easier to control and understand my mind on the days that my phone and computer stay off longer - it does mean I am getting even lousier at answering messages but at the same time I feel less miserable and can concentrate somewhat better. It becomes easier to put order in things, to find time for a book, for creation. It also means I am left to face myself more; but in truth I do not know how to manage all this pain and anger that I see before me. The anger is mostly directed to myself, for the times that I let down others and also me, for the times I turned a blind eye to what was happening instead of standing my ground, for the times that I believed staying quiet could ever be my saving grace. I shift through all the pieces and wonder what could I have done differently. I look in the mirror and wonder whether I like the person that I have now become.

  I grew bitter and harsh over the course of the spring and summer. My mother's eyes are full of alarm, I managed to water down my tiredness in the past couple of months but whenever things quiet down, I feel it rising it back towards the surface. I used to fight it back towards the bottom but the older I grow, the less energy and desire to do so I find. Perhaps that is a good thing: a way to mentally declutter, internalising how I try to treat the space around me.

  As the days become shorter and the cold of the oncoming winter arrives slowly but surely, I find small moments of personal blossoming. Perhaps all this bitterness, in time, can turn into a kind of resilience. It is hard to believe and to have hope, so I don't, but in a pragmatic way I try not to refuse the possibilities.