I go through phases: being consumed, followed by reclaiming my alone time. I'm writing from the busy Southbank Centre while waiting for a concert. Reclaiming, I am. I have eight evenings in a row booked (none with dates, just in case you were wondering; though why would you). Evenings of drowning my heartache in wine (tried coffee first, doesn't quite work). Evenings of Mahler, Piazolla and Thomas Gould. Volunteering and books (currently reading Coutts' 'The Iceberg' - doubt it'll help me with heartache though.
I go through phases. From being fiercely independent to needing somebody to call me 'sweet'. And I mean 'needing' it. I've never been lukewarm. Not sure how long I can stand the phases though. It's draining. Being emotional is draining. Being me is draining. And yet, I don't know any other way to be. Strangest thing, if you asked me whether I wanted to change, I'd say no. Nor that I could anyway. I'm one of those peculiar people who think that to live you need to be emotional, you need to go through experiences. Lukewarmth is evil.
My (wise) brother would say that we live and die alone. Very dramatic of him. People are just blips on film. I can almost understand that. My question is - how much can we let the blips consume us? You know what, I don't even like the word 'blip'. Makes it sound insignificant, and I don't let insignificant people consume me. There is some comfort though in knowing that I can still find people, those forces.
I thought I could fix people. I wanted to be the one to fix people. (there's a fine line)
I found it very disturbing and distressing when I couldn't. Powerless. You can tell I'm not used to not being in control, some battles people need to fight themselves. So you let go. You let go and stay grateful. Grateful for the time and the trust, for being let in. We underestimate that. We take it for granted. We think that people owe it to us to let us in, pour their hearts out. Well, they don't. Sometimes we forget that others have heartache too. Maybe it's because mine tends to roll down my cheeks during a Monday morning commute. Others hide it better.
So I am grateful. Well, I damn try anyway. I want to be kind and gentle among the suffering as I am one of them.
Life is about experiences. Hopefully many positive ones. It's about making people (feel) better. Even if you're just a blip in their lives. The blips aren't unimportant. Sometimes they're the only things that keep us sane. They makes us feel like we matter. Like if we disappeared, somebody would notice. And usually, that's enough to keep you living. Through another phase.