So I’m having some trouble, internally. I’m not really sure if my trouble resides in my heart, my head or my circumstances. I’m not even sure if I launched my own struggle or if I was vulnerable to an outside stimulus, either here on earth or up above us.
I’ve tried to blame the stresses of life, the depression with which winter dresses me, my hectic schedule or even my insomnia. Therein lies the problem; laying blame doesnt work because my life isn’t, for once in a long time, stressed, my schedule has been hectic since I started working at seventeen and although my insomnia has gotten better, I’m so used to it that I cope rather well with it.
The crazy part is my “trouble” is triggered by rather peaceful surroundings. Its when I look at my life and realize how good I have it and how it could hardly get better that my mind and emotions run rampant. Its the calm of good music, the comfort of amazing company, the happy silence in a friendship and the casualness of life in general.
I find myself arguing with my own emotions; screaming silently in battle with feelings running wild and desperately trying to understand their trigger points. I have love and understanding in places that most people’s rivers run shallow, exposing themselves in an effort to empathize. These qualities however are a curse to my personal life. I tend to sacrifice myself in ways most girls couldn’t, constantly passing up good thing after good thing. I have a natural need to nurture instead of cutting through the crowd in persuit of my desires.
Recently a type of emotional connection was brought to my attention. Whether its actual or coincidental, I’ll never know but its brought to my attention that I’m not alone in the world. I’m not the only one “blessed” with this tortuous thing we call empathy. Don’t get me wrong, I know and understand that we are all at times empathetic, but sometimes I think I was blessed an extra dose. And as the days pass, its hard to figure out if its self-destructive or truly a gift from God. Its hard to get used to the idea that I’m not impossible to understand, that my mind isnt as cluttered as the attic of my eighty year old grandmother but is in fact boxed and organized but just really really overwelming.
That being said, my overwelming and overflowing box of emotions is frustrating. I fight to structure my life and I fight not to fall in Love. Unfortunately I know that falling isn’t a choice. Its something that happens when your not looking. I’m not sure if I’m falling or just waiting to cushion another’s fall. Whatever it is, Love is involved. I really wish I knew why or how. Better yet, I wish I could handle it in a constructive manner.