journal-10/11/99

10/11/99

I close my eyes and I think of all the people who have been there for me when I least expected it, but I most needed it. I think of those who haven't been there when I needed them, or when I expected them. Real friends really do surprise you... people you weren't counting on, but maybe you should have, and they help you grow and love and trust a little more than you did the last time, because the ones you thought were going to be there for you break your heart a little more each time you hit your head against their closed door.

I still have no idea what I'm really doing here, what my real purpose is in this life, what direction I'm supposed to go in. I have some more ideas, some more clues than I did a few years ago. I don't know if what I truly want is what I truly need or if it's right for me to do. And if what I truly want isn't the right thing, then what is the right then and when will I find that out? Here I am living in New England, teaching "severe special needs children" at a well-known school. I'm 2000 miles away from all of my family and everyone I grew up with. I'm hundreds of miles away from all of my friends I made in college. I've made a few good friends here-- and what if suddenly I found myself all alone one day, with no one to turn to, with no one to fall back on for support except my own shadow... which way would I turn?

Am I a good friend? Do I give enough to those I love? Do I listen when someone needs to be listened to, or am I too busy trying to carve out my place and create my own importance that I don't hear someone's cry for help when it's quiet and sincere?

Am I giving all I've got every single day of my life? Right now I do not feel that I am. I feel like I'm just surviving. There are always too many things on my mind and never only one thing on my mind. I always have a black cloud of money hanging in the corners of my sunny days. I always have the daggers of fear lurking in the shadows of my happiness. I always have the sticky quicksand of skepticism seeping through the cracks of my trust in others. Why? Because I have been hurt. Because I have been truly left alone before, with no one to turn to. And I never want to feel that way again.

Yet, I'm so good at pushing people away, driving away those I care about and who care about me-- I don't want to get hurt again so I don't get close enough to get hurt. I don't want to be left completely alone again so I remain somewhat alone all the time. I'm afraid to trust because I'm afraid that trust will be betrayed again.

I am human and I make my share of mistakes and I make them every day.

I wonder if anyone thinks about themselves as much as I think about myself. I wonder if anyone else is as hard on themselves as I am. I wonder if anyone reflects and ponders and analyzes as much as I do.

Somewhere, I know someone must. But we get so fucking caught up in what we're trying to do here and then the little obscurities are looked over, and so much about our lives becomes superficial and all we end up doing is making it from one day to the next. We never think about the why.

But this is where I differ, because I do think about the why. The question why is what drives me to be the person I am, is what drives me into the directions in which I choose to go, the directions in which I believe I am supposed to go.

Take me back to Spring Break 1997, when I went to Big Cabin, Oklahoma with Alternative Spring Break. I have never been so certain of myself and my purpose in life as I was on that trip, during that week of my life. I was so centered. I was so at home. I was so confident. I was at peace. Ever since then I have been striving for that feeling again, and I haven't captured it... I haven't found it again. And I don't know what I have to do to get it again but I know that I just want it to be there.

I do not understand what it was about the Loyal Shawnee Indians that captured my soul and held me in suspense for that week... I do not know what it was about our group of participants who went on the trip-- we meshed better than any other group of 16 I've heard of, we pulled together and worked and we were driven entirely by the Loyal Shawnees' hope combined with our group's desire to be of help... to do good things, to take forward steps in their plight for survival and for national recognition from the US government...

I want to feel centred and balanced and happy again, like I felt then. Since then I have felt the highest euphoria and the lowest sadness and everything in-between. I am an emotional person by nature, but that sense of balance is what I long for. It's not something I can get form any other person, it's something that has to come from deep inside of me. Something that I am still searching for... but I do know that I feel better-- like my head is more screwed-on-straight-- when I write. When I write a lot. Things come out of me that I never knew existed, that I never have even thought about before, they just end up on paper and later I read them and wonder if these things really did come from me... but I know somehow that I am capable of great things, grandiose things. I am so different from anyone in my family (but probably most like my grandmother)... so different from anyone I went to elementary school, junior high, or high school with... different from anyone I went to college with... and yet I am full of threads from every single person I've ever known. How can this be? I am human, that's how.

I know I am capable of great things and I somehow think that I am meant to do great things, but what things? The greatest things I can think of are publishing books and poetry.

I know this much is true-- I must write. Sometimes I have to force myself to sit down with the pen and paper and draw the stuff out of me like a patient fisherman waiting for the big catch. Sometimes I avoid the pen and paper. Sometimes I pull it out, stare at it, and put it away. And writing is something I love, so just imagine my discipline problems with doing things I don't love to do... Sometimes stuff just flows out of me and I can't stop it. I've stopped on the sidewalk and written poems on drug store receipts before-- sometimes I just have to grab paper and some kind of utensil and write, or *poof* it's gone.

This makes writing a part of my identity, and everything that I write at any given time is a direct reflection (sometimes explanation) of who I was at a particular moment in time.

I don't know where I'm leading with all of this but I think it's just my way of helping myself clear out all the garbage in my head... because lately there's been a lot of garbage.

And I'm sorry if I've put any of my close-knits on the defensive. I know that what I feel and what I say and what I write can at times be outlandish and impulsive and I could perchance offend someone I really care about-- yet this is not my intention at all... my intention is to help you understand me more... to help you "get me"... to read me better because I want you inside of me. I want you to see the crevices of my heart and my brain, I want you to know the things I've never told anyone and I want you to see me for who I really am.

I do not think that I am a bad person. I think I always mean to do well but I know it doesn't always work out that way. I do impulsive things out of love for those I care about, without thinking of the practicality or the rational side. I say impulsive things tactlessly without thinking and I have to later retrace my steps to explain myself-- because if you don't understand me well enough so that I don't feel like I have to explain myself to you... then I do have to explain that I didn't mean to offend you or hurt you, just that I am expressing my concern to you because I truly want you to be the best person you can be. Yet another of my faults. I am famous for seeing the potential in people and pointedly telling them what they can do to reach that potential. As a leader this is a great advantage. When I was an officer in flag corps way back in high school, this trait really started to surface and form. It became prominent through my leadership experiences in college. I always pointed out what committee or an officer/executive could do to make their job run more smoothly. I could always tell an officer how they could run their position better and be a more effective leader.

I take it all in, I listen, I absorb, and later, I have my comments.

But sometimes, I don't know when to quit. I guess because sometimes I don't even know when to quit with myself... because I am too hard on myself sometimes, and that carries over to being too hard on others at times, too.

Maybe one of these days I will learn to relax...

Maybe one of these days I will realize that I really am beautiful, that I really can do it, that I really am doing it, and that everything is going to be okay.

Maybe...