Uncomfortably Comfortable

Why do I have to be so fucking weird? C’mon A, calm the fuck down. Everything is okay. Why does it have to be so uncomfortable to be okay? 

“I was happily unhappy,” I said today. Nope, too morbid. That can’t possibly be true, I thought. Yet it sounded too close to home as it spilled off my lips, before I jumped out of Crow’s bed, and left the house for nearly two hours. Why would I do that? 

How is it that on some level, I am aware that this is exactly what would happen? In some way I knew there would be a day, like today, where I would feel exactly the way I feel now. I hope it stops here. Little in me is convinced that today is the only day that will feel the way today feels.

Half of me feels convinced that this is just the beginning of the discomfort, the beginning of unexamined emotions throughout me, and of my new relationship with Crow. (A completely new reality, in extension.) This particular half of me, in despair over my expected discomfort, sees it as actually having nothing or very little to do with Crow or anything in regards to my feelings towards Crow. The magic in what I feel for Crow is at times, out of this world. I don’t think it could be better. So, with this, the discomfort and itchiness underneath my skin, derives more from where my current (and sudden) new reality hits. Everything is different. Everything makes sense in a weird, warp-of-time-and-body sort of way, but nevertheless, it is new, and it is weird weird weird. It’s actually comfortable, and way too smooth. That itself feels like a borderline panic-attack. It’s a deep, unfamiliar anxiety. It hits me in a moment when it all gets too quiet, too clear, in its crystal-clear coolness, that if I am unable to ignore it or silence it by making noise or moving onto the next activity, I am royaly fucked for some uncomfortable self examination. I am required to honestly investigate my anxious emotions while I am in this place, feeling the way I feel without knowing how to throw it up into words. The other half of me, is convinced I’m actually not able to convince myself that this is just the beginning to an uncomfortable path of being comfortable. Instead, I notice there is something very strange bubbling up. Instead, I take notice that, yes, I am uncomfortable right now, and yes, I have no idea why because things actually appear potentially of great comfort for once in my life, and yes, I must be brave to untangle these uncalming emotions right here in the now. If I can stop it now, in all its uncomfortable glory, the derailing traintracks are very repairable. A bumpy ride, but repairable. I am uncomfortable with the comfortability of my present being. Oh god, I am scared shitless, it seems. What do I fear?

I will first say what I don’t fear. I don’t fear unpredictability with Crow and I. I don’t fear feeling unloved, unheard, or unable to cooperate, to a fair degree. I don’t fear being not worthy. Nor do I fear me finding him unworthy. This is great, this a rare treat. What I can say is that I fear the exact opposite. I think I am actually petrified of feeling comfortable. I am scared to the point that the uneasiness circulating in my stomach extends throughout my veins, and causes me to feel similarly to the feeling of being able to cry at a drop of a hat. It is not something that’s coming out. I don’t think it’s that I am holding back, it’s simply confusing of its cause. What causes me to feel this? This doesn’t make sense. This fear, I don’t understand you. But what I do understand is insecurity, and something about all of this, rings true in the insecurity department.

“Hello, A!” Insecurity waves it’s hand at me from across the room.

“What’s up, girl? It’s kind of quiet around here, huh?” Insecurity says to me, inching closer and closer to me, making me known of her bitch cunty vibes of assertive self-awareness.

“Things look really well for you,” she continues talking, “I’m proud of you, look at you! Look at all this goodness! It’s kinda cool, yeah? The way it all came to you, unexpectedly, yeah? High five. Now sit down. Let’s have a chat. Oh, don’t want to? Too late. Everything’s great now. There is no where for you to go. There is no where for you to run off to and give your attention to. There is literally so very little you could worry about right here and now, and so very little for you to get wrapped up in other than this very moment. You can’t escape now. You’re at a quiet place now, a calm place, a place of freedom. So, what’s up? Talk to me. You have nothing to do. Nothing to complain about. All you have is you, you, you, you… and how does that feel? How does You feel, A? Nothing’s wrong here, so what feels uncomfortably wrong with you, deep within you, just sitting there? Melting there, in the pit of your stomach? Deeply engrained emotions that have been forgotten about, like a glass of milk that has gone sour, forming custards of rotteness and foulness. Hm? Why uncomfortable, boo? Why sour in the pit of your stomach like that, boo? Yes, let’s take a look at that, shall we?” 

I must accept the relief in many ways that life has thrown at me, in ways I never, ever searched for, or even hoped for. I am experiencing a sense of solidity and almost… direction and expectation that has hit me so out of the blue, that has perhaps been stagnant in my life for years. Quite literally, years. I am 25 fucking years old, I am so young. How could it be that it has been this long? Have I not been capable of accepting the ability to be comfortable and “in love” for truly the whole get-start of my early twenties and adulthood? Was I truly so uncomfortable in every area of my life, without the ability to predict where in the world my path was taking me, for so very long? For years I’ve been here, it seems.

Am I not able to accept this rawness? Am I not able to accept me? Am I not able to sit in a moment, that is of no harm, no drama whatsoever, and accept that there is quite vividly a crystal-clear view in front of me? Even comfortability and happiness take getting used to.

I wanted a crutch today. I wanted one bad. I even thought about cocaine today, why? I have no desire for cocaine. I have no desire to “party.” I think I just wanted to feel something, since in a way, my adrenaline rush of love and conflict, love and conflict, love love, conflict conflict…was coming to a steady pace halt. It is not that I feel less all of a sudden, I feel so very much; it is that the dilemma and chaos train was slowing down; the breaks screeching against the rustic metal, getting ready to announce that I’ve arrived at my station. It’s time to get off. I had arrived at the station I must be dropped off at, yet I had not yet gathered my things. I had not yet prepared for my stop. I had not yet prepared for my arrival. I am trying to get my barrings. I’m trying to rush, so that I don’t miss my destined location, excited to have arrived, but stressed in my rushing manner, worried that I will even be ready to hop off, hopting I am able to gather everything I need before exiting this train. I’ve been going fast for a long time. The adrenaline, as chaos and internal debates, was not my cup of tea, or so I thought, but it was always something to do, always somewhere that I was trying to go. Now that I am here – now what? 

The slow and steady breaks on the tracks insinuated that the dilemma and chaos was coming to a close; a chapter in my life was closing. I had come to this stop because I recently refused to stay frozen in time. I moved forward in a way that exactly resembled what the universe graced me with, in its fluidic mannerisms, seemingly out of my control, and moreso within my needs and the requirements of my higher soul power. This is very much so in a way that I could’ve never predicted my life to look the way it does right now, even one short month ago, even 1-2 weeks ago, condensed and in the twilight zone, I would’ve never guessed Id be here. Oh, jeez. I feel some sort of something… I haven’t felt this way in so long. I’ve been here before, haven’t I? In different ways? Yet in a way, it is quite different than any way before? And it’s been so long, if ever, that I’ve truly felt this way, the way I feel today?

I am stripped bare, here. I am completely terrified of my own happiness, and being completely that, completely me. I crave the contrast. I realize this now. I crave the struggle. And oh how I’ve cursed the struggle, oh how I’ve hated it and became beaten by the struggle, oh how I fell victim to it, and fought it, and ached and killed myself over it, praying to please take it away, please make me happy, please make me real. 

I prayed and prayed and prayed, for love, for peace, for clarity. I got all those things, and now I’m free. But I forgot that I hate open spaces, I hate being free. Perhaps these chains were carrying me. My chains made me shine. Artificial sunlight. Artificial brightness. I needed to spread light in a dark area. To do this, made my light perhaps even more noticeable. Because even with the dimest shine, in its context of shining light on something dark, my light was noticed, and very much appreciated. Where it appeared, where it was seen, where it was shown, in the darkness of closed off spaces, my light was very well known. In a way, I begged others to see my chains. I felt dear purpose through the process of removing these chains. At times it hurt bad. It hurt really fucking bad. I begged for others to stare into my light, to be guided, to be warmed.

My sunlight is artificial. Until I became free. Now I really could be. I really could be bright. I really could shine. Yet, I’m here, in open spaces, clear skies, a naked body, serenaded by the freely given warmth and nourishment of the sun above me. The view is stunning. With it, I have a sense of “I did it, I made it, I’m here.”

Another side of me, opens up under this sunlight in this bare and bright way of being for only a brief moment until I look over my shoulder, until I am falling to my knees, looking to be hidden in the grass and weeds. This side of me suddenly fesls ashamed of my beauty, ashamed of my naked paleness, my scars, as well as my negligence to think that roaming free would be a good thing; wide open, with so little control, so little concern.

My pain that once was so real now lingers behind me. In a way, and I’m almost certain, the pain that I felt is indeed gone; never to return, at least not exactly the same way. I look behind my shoulder, while the new warmth of the real light hits my face and neck. The sunlight is caressing me and dream-like overhead, yet burns my skin. I’m not quite adapted. I’m not quite tan. I know it’s good for me, but I’m a little too new, a little too exposed. I need a block. I need to ease in to this type of exposure.

Behind my shoulder, peering, Pain is behind me. Pain, she’s gone now, is she? We were so close for so long, Pain and I. I learned to see her as a companion. I tasted her artificial sweetness in so many amounts I began to prefer it to the real thing. I hated her too. I felt used, alone, angry, anxious, desperate for gratitude, I had to force it. As much disturbance and uncertainty and desperation I’ve felt so recently ago, I was familiar with it. In a way, we became friends. In a way, my pain held me by its handcuffs, and I hated it, begging to be free, and yet I was the one with holding and hiding the key! “Make me free!!!” I’d yell, “…but don’t leave me.”

I don’t know how to be free. But I want to. Hold my hand, Pain. Hold my hand through this transition. A little sunblock in the face of the sun can be beneficial, if I am not yet evolved. Which I am very much not. We became friends you and I. Together, we’ll get through this. Today, Pain, I actually like you. To miss you was absolutely absurd. To miss you only showed me how desperately unaware I am with me, and what that actually means to be me. What does happiness actually mean, what does “no problem” look like? How does it look to face me, accept me, see me, and shine fucking bright about it? I wasn’t aware I was this unaware. I wasn’t aware I held the hand of my pain for the amount of time that I have. I did not know how to act today with no pain in sight, and in a way, this painlessness pained me itself! How could this be? No conflict, no demand, no something to figure out? No noise or chaos or the plea and request from someone to gain my attention due to my distance?

I am willing to see how affected I am, right now. It’s okay to work on you, baby doll. Give it the chance. Be a newborn. Come at it totally different. All that growth and knowledge accumulated over the years, all which I learned through struggle and contrast, now apply it to your new easy freeness. Nostalgic over suffering? I realized today, in my most honest sharing, I wanted there to be a problem. But, there was no problem! There wasn’t even something I could call in and disguise as a problem. Damsel in distress made zero sense. I didn’t want a problem. I knew damn well I didn’t want to create a problem either. Subconsciously, I think I searched it out. Not entirely subconscious, as I am aware of it now. Despite the admission of subconscious searching, I was, just as well aware that I truly did not want to cause a problem. I did not want to make a scene by any means, as this would feel disgusting to me, a degree significantly below me, below my maturity, and absolutely nothing like me. I was aware that I did not want to create any problem, but perhaps it was that I still craved a contrast. Some sort of contrast, come to me. Was I giving Pain an invitation to make an appearance? Could something happen to me, please? Then I realize, damn am I really that afraid to just be? Am I really inexperienced with experiencing my okayness? Damn, the easiness makes me uneasy. This absence of trouble, is something I must remain on guard about. I must learn not to reflect back insecurities. I must learn to not seek an issue of what must be solved. I must learn to be okay with me. Here we go, new journey. Another one. Be on the look out, love. 

I love you.

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