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February 03, 2008
It's Not Pretty
I am really hoping to discipline myself to write more often, but it seems like when I need to write the most, I am unable to break out from inside myself.
Shaking inside and can hardly write. The sun is shimmering on the blue sea, and a fleet of dorsal fins emerge and disappear beneath the smooth ripples. Tiny hummingbirds, emerald and glossy with pink-fuschia underbellies flit by the window, and then perch on small, frail branches. They look too miniature to be true and real: otherworldly, almost...maybe animated.
The sky is azure but for a grey sea fog that settles over the green tops of the mountains, and I am empty inside. Shame, shame for being empty while enveloped in such beauty. My eyes see today, but inside nothing can reach me in the vast, cold wasteland of hopelessness and lifelong despair.
This gnawing emptiness hungers inside constantly, and no matter how I try, I cannot seem to fill it. I have tried to drink myself into a peaceful state, eat myself into a place of comfort, distract myself with whatever I can find. It all just puts off the inevitable return to the great descent into myself. I feel as though I am not a person inside, but a place...a lonely, empty place...barren and bereft...interminably doomed to a constant and endless fatality of soul, spirit, and mind.
I try to comfort myself with music, but it is nothing...nothing of worth. I cannot get to the writing-expressing. The creator in me is locked in a vacuum, a void; bound and gagged and silenced and unable to be found. Nevertheless, out of desperation I sit at the piano and watch my fingers move like digits on an automaton; striking predetermined notes and chords of a song I despise and yet cannot stop playing. It is a false song, a default, and it is bitter in it's shallow and hollow meaninglessness to me.
Keep writing and perhaps I will vomit out enough of this nothingness that settles inside me and will not allow me to find the truth. Peace, peace, peace to the starvation inside that calls out to anyone. Locking eyes with strangers, searching for something which has no name. No definition.
Years and years and years have woven themselves into a lifetime of this familiar sorrow. A thick and heavy blanket of a downcast and despairing state of being. I feel a oneness with the sorrow and torment; it has been grafted into the fibers of my existence. Can I be separate from this pain? Is it even worthwhile to try? To continue every moment to pull myself to a place of functioning and apparent normalcy when in reality I am inevitably sinking further down. I am imprisoned alone in isolation inside myself.
When you talk to me, you will not hear this. When you see me, you will not see this. I am not at my lowest. I have been in a much lower and darker place, and I have survived. And everything will be alright. Everything will be alright. Everything will be alright.
Posted by darby on February 3, 2008 12:19 PM
Comments
If I could take your pain from you and put it on me...I probably wouldn't... but I want it to be gone. I want Jesus to take it from you and it makes me mad that he hasn't done it yet.
Posted by: mers on February 3, 2008 01:19 PM
"there is nothing darker than empty, there is nothing, except hopeless"
Please forgive me if it's tacky to use a lyric i wrote, but i thought it might be appropriate and worth the risk of looking like a complete jackass.
It came from place where i knew that the only way i could feel any worse would be if i had no hope at all. And though still feeling empty, i was grateful for that small seed of hope.
I was happy to read your last lines "...everything will be alright." You still have hope, and hope will not disappoint. (romans 5:3-5)
I know there are many, many out there praying that you find your peace. And it wil be worth the struggle and the wait.
And please keep writing, both here and your music...
Posted by: gins on February 3, 2008 03:37 PM
The words of the Teacher, son of David, king in Jerusalem:
2 "Meaningless! Meaningless!"
says the Teacher.
"Utterly meaningless!
Everything is meaningless."
3 What does man gain from all his labor
at which he toils under the sun?
4 Generations come and generations go,
but the earth remains forever.
5 The sun rises and the sun sets,
and hurries back to where it rises.
6 The wind blows to the south
and turns to the north;
round and round it goes,
ever returning on its course.
7 All streams flow into the sea,
yet the sea is never full.
To the place the streams come from,
there they return again.
8 All things are wearisome,
more than one can say.
The eye never has enough of seeing,
nor the ear its fill of hearing.
9 What has been will be again,
what has been done will be done again;
there is nothing new under the sun.
10 Is there anything of which one can say,
"Look! This is something new"?
It was here already, long ago;
it was here before our time.
11 There is no remembrance of men of old,
and even those who are yet to come
will not be remembered
by those who follow.
12 I, the Teacher, was king over Israel in Jerusalem. 13 I devoted myself to study and to explore by wisdom all that is done under heaven. What a heavy burden God has laid on men! 14 I have seen all the things that are done under the sun; all of them are meaningless, a chasing after the wind.
15 What is twisted cannot be straightened;
what is lacking cannot be counted.
16 I thought to myself, "Look, I have grown and increased in wisdom more than anyone who has ruled over Jerusalem before me; I have experienced much of wisdom and knowledge." 17 Then I applied myself to the understanding of wisdom, and also of madness and folly, but I learned that this, too, is a chasing after the wind.
18 For with much wisdom comes much sorrow;
the more knowledge, the more grief.
Posted by: Anonymous on February 4, 2008 06:02 PM
I am sorry you go through this; but there will be a time when you will see the fruit that comes of it...We see so dimly now, but eventually we will see truly, clearly. But, I pray that you will see glimpses of good things and beauty and peace NOW--and not just far-away glimpses, either; but that they would be glimpses of good things within you. Darby, you are so loved.
Posted by: jessic on February 5, 2008 01:06 PM
Darbs,
Can words make it better? How I wish they could. I would have spoken them long ago. I would have heard them long ago, from those who spoke them to me.
I'm sorry that your inside sense is broken. I wish I could fix it, or give you a new one. I know that it's broken, because it isn't giving you a good reading of what is actually inside you. You have so much beauty and richness inside you.
"You don't really know me," you might say. Perhaps. But what I say about you is still true. God told me. His judgment is true.
I pray that the Manufacturer will give you a new inside sense, so that you can see what is truly there.
Posted by: peaj on February 6, 2008 12:03 PM
I just want to hold you in my arms "the sun is slowly sinking down;but the moon is surely rising"
Posted by: dad on February 8, 2008 06:34 PM
jeez dad, that is really sad.
Posted by: mers on February 10, 2008 08:24 PM