Shadow of the self

Where have I gone,

How have I come here?

How have I become a shadow of my former self?

I hear myself speak and wonder who it was speaking.

I have always held a light –

An ability to shine through no matter what I’m feeling.

But now the words seem jumbled,

They seem honest but untrue.

They seem flattened and dimmed from troubles and hopes,

They seem unable to pass by these to talk of joy.

That still flickers in and out in bucket loads, trust me it does,

But the voice behind it is ever present,

That voice of angst and fear,

That voice of ‘what the hell am I doing here?’

I say things I don’t really mean,

I come across shut-down and emotionally unavailable,

Yet all I want to do is sit down and let my tears scream.

But instead it gets jumbled in misread words,

It gets tongue tied and complicated,

Even more than it was already.

I want to be like I used to be.

The good bits, not the troubled bits.

I catch myself wondering how I let myself get this way.

How can I be living with such fear and debilitating confidence?

How can the thought of coffee with friends, leave me so riddled with terror?

Have I been avoiding how bad it has been getting?

Have I been filling my days with comfort zone bits?

No. But I have not been living like I used to.

But perhaps this is okay. Just for now.

Perhaps I should let the rhythm follow its natural ebb and flow.

Perhaps I shouldn’t.

All I do know, is it feels desperate.

This need for support, for professional guidance.

And yet I remember, I feel this every time –

When things are bad, I feel this sense of urgency like my life depends on it.

Maybe it does.

Maybe it doesn’t.

Maybe I’ll swing out of this acute phase and come out knowing I survived it again.

But how?

It is happening, it is coming. It just takes so much time. And it takes so many days of fear that it is going backwards. But when I look at the details – am I? It twists, it twines, it takes different disguises, some have become more deep rooted and cemented, but other elements have shifted and have become easier to not be so bowled over by.

It takes patience like the buried daffodil bulbs in autumn, knowing they are safe and secure waiting and holding out until that spring sunshine comes and lifts them from their cosy muddy roots.

I just hope my patience holds out like those daffs do.

In times of acute angst, do you feel all jumbled and weird when you’re in social situations? Do you feel like it’s not you talking? Do you feel hidden in a haze of anxiety and worry, unable to drift out, even if just for a moment with dear friends?

Big love.

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11 thoughts on “Shadow of the self

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