“The hard season will split you through. do not worry. you will bleed water. do not worry. this is grief. your face will fall out and down your skin and there will be scorching. but do not worry. keep speaking the years from their hiding places. keep coughing up smoke from all the deaths you have died. keep the rage tender. because the soft season will come. it will come. loud. ready. gulping. both hands in your chest. up all night. up all of the nights. to drink all damage into love.”
~ Nayyirah Waheed, salt.
This is day 1 for me of a 31 day writing challenge. I should also mention that the challenge officially started 7 days ago, so I’m behind and I will complete it late. Though in my hyper scheduled life I’m early for everything, in the larger life picture I do things later than others. Please don’t call it being a “late bloomer”, dear fuck, I’m not blooming at all. I’m surviving. Survival takes time, energy and more tenacity than would be needed for those who flow smoothly through the seasons of life.
Finding the perfect subject matter and things to say generally leaves me immobile and not writing. So as was suggested from a blogging friend (with a huge following and much more skill than I): just write for 10 minutes. So I will warn you this will be straight stream of consciousness and in all likelihood will bunny trail off into the wildness.
I’m sick of surviving. Life is rarely happy, and certainly not easy, when you are surviving. Yet survival is the protection my mind devised to keep me sane when the walls of my life collapsed time and time again. I held on while wanting to die. I pressed forward with no plan, no dreams and no hope. I didn’t want to live but could never quite put killing myself as a priority over staying alive.
Survival involves a lot of fear. Most decisions are fear based. Even in the moments you try to “live in the moment” and give yourself some joy, the fear will overtake it all saying “You’ll be sorry. Don’t hope. Don’t expect too much. Being happy now will only make tomorrow worse.”
It is interesting now that I’ve left Christianity, and really God too, that I’m actually much calmer about the future than I was when supposedly God had my back and my future was to hang out in heaven with Jesus. I never felt the peace that passes all understanding. Not once. Not with all the begging, pleading and screams of my heart. Nothing. Knowing it all rests on me now is an easier place to live.