I don't like the person I'm becoming.
Lately, I'm either intoxicated, closed off from the world, or using someone's body to not think about my feelings or standoffish. It's gotten to the point that my work life has been affected too. My clients are not receiving the same care as before. Not doing what I promised to do such as calling the landlord or forgetting the whole damn appointment and rushing to the office with a few minutes to spare if I'm lucky. I feel bad, but at the same time, I don't. There are times I'm so overwhelmed by all the thoughts and feelings that I feel desensitized from it all as if my system crashed from overload.
Before it was bad, but right now it's gotten worse. Everyone in my life saw that I wasn't doing well. Even the people that aren't that close to me. Despite it all, I was still functioning. Until now. Now the scale tipped over. I know exactly how and when it tipped over.
Did you know that when an (elderly) Indonesian Muslim passes away it's customary to compose a pocket-sized Koran? They give them away for free to all the people who helped during the ceremony. It's meant to be kept in that circle and not made to make a profit.
Not that long ago I received one from my mother. She told me she wanted to give it to me because when she leaves for Hadj, she wants me to pray for her too. I never had an "official" koran. I use a book that's made of copies. It's been curated and translated into Arabic (Arab signs and Abc) with a Dutch translation. Every translation in ABC/Latin and Dutch was written word for word by one person. It took him months to finish it. He even dissembled a whole koran for the original text because he couldn't work with Photoshop.
Back to the other book tho, the Indonesian book. The moment I saw the book I saw the love, attention, care, and effort that people put into it. You can almost feel the love coming from the pages. Even the paper was special. From the intricate details such as the borders and colors that were carefully picked out, the thoughtful preface, or the way how somehow all the prayers fit perfectly on one page combined with the translation that's their own too. Just looking at it made me feel warm inside. Even though I never met the woman, I can see that she was loved. As I was staring at her picture I thought what kind of person she was. She looked kind. She looked like someone's grandma or the person who people come to for advice. Somehow that familiar feeling came back. Something I haven't felt in a long time. Memories of reciting prayers before going to sleep so my mind is at ease. Nights where I asked to watch over my loved ones and protect them from darkness.
The moment shifted when I read the prayers. When I intentionally tried to pray. The moment I did, I felt like drowning. All of a sudden I felt the water spray bottle. I heard my mother saying this was not my voice. That I wasn't her daughter. The nightmare didn't stop there. I heard him too. Over and over I could hear him saying this wasn't my path. This wasn't what God made me for. I was wrong. My whole being was wrong. Never have I felt that lonely before. All I could do was stare at the prayers and feel like I was dirty. That I'm not worthy to touch this book. I felt the tears in the corner of my eyes and didn't know what to do. I wanted to draw blood. I wanted to use someone's body. I wanted to be intoxicated. I wanted all of these things, but the thing I wanted to most was forget.
I'm mad at myself that I'm still struggling with this. Why can't I get over it? Why does this still affect me this way? Why can't I do something about it? Why are the voices getting louder? I know I should do something, but I'm afraid. I think I also believe that I don't deserve help. Maybe that's why I'm still running away. Running away towards my own death or the negative spiral that is my life now. I wonder how long I can keep doing this until everything falls apart. How long until things come from worse to worst? Is this the moment I should worry about my mental state because lately, the voices are getting louder?
The song I chose describes the way I'm feeling right now: bittersweet emotions and memories of a former lover. The former lover is my darkness. Caught in an internal conflict knowing I'm in a toxic relationship but still I go back because I feel an irresistible pull. Each time I go back, it ends in me being hurt. It never changes. The outcome is always the same.
After recovering, I still feel the attraction, the magnetic pull. Is it nostalgia that keeps calling me back?
Reactie plaatsen
Reacties