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The Beginning of the End.
Nov. 21st, 2010 07:30 pm(This is the post that got Pre-empted from Friday)
I had some time to myself on Friday. Working only in the morning. It's been unusual as it's been taking an age to get anywhere, or get home, so all I've been doing is going to work, coming home, being too tried to do /anything/ and it was getting me down.
So I decided that I would take myself off to the movie theatre. I went to see Harry Potter. Now... before everyone starts wondering if I've fallen out of my tree... no... I didn't go and see it because I was /desperate/ to see the film on its opening day. I'll admit to being curious about it, but the only other thing that was showing anywhere close to the time I reached the theatre was Skyline, and I wasn't in the mood for Alien Invasion Sci-Fi. So Teenage Wizardly Apocolyptic Angstfic won out.
What struck me, though, was how terribly ironic the entire trip was. To explain, (and reference the title). The last time I went to that movie theatre by myself during the afternoon was way back when The Mummy Returns was first out. I was on sickness leave from work at the time, suffering from depression... and the visits to the movie helped. I have been fighting with feelings of depression on and off lately too, and with a distinct lack of creativity, and so I turned again to the medium of movie to give me a lift. It's not exactly escapism... more a sense of - this is a creative media, so perhaps the creativity in me will answer by waking again. It seemed to work - to one degree or another.
But it also made me think of other things too... Here I am, trying to find a way to be more like myself again, to come out from the shell I've retreated into, and open myself to love and to the needs of others over self, (without ignoring self), and the last time I tried was when I was watching The Mummy just about every day, and The Mummy led me to the wonderful woman who is now my spouse, who is being harmed more than any other by my withdrawal. But perspective - It is not for her alone that I desire to heal myself, but for every reason. Most of all, how can I help and heal others if I am too wounded to function myself?
I've been having a great deal of trouble communicating, and particularly communicating emotion. It's been going on far too long and has been very destructive. Recently, we - Mir and I that is - came up with a plan to use the written word to help with that. When we went on our honeymoon recently, I'm sorry to say that Mir was dreadfully sick a first. It's likely that it was American Airlines that had given her food poisoning, so... to give her some solace and comfort I read to her some letters I had written. She said to me, "You write very well." They were her exact words and I remember them so clearly because they moved me a great deal. What she said validated a part of me that is important to me, and which I always worry she does not appreciate. I know tha's silly, it's a battle between head and heart in that, because of course half of me knows that she values all parts of me just as I do of her. But to hear those simple words spoken, it has stayed with me... a little jewel, brighter than any diamond that she could have given to me, and I cherish them.
Anyway... the long and rambling upshot of all of this... I have a book... a journalling book called 'Life Companion.' I thought I would give it a go. And find those points, those true moments to share as I have been trying to do... a little bit at a time... chip away at these walls with which I have surrounded myself to find the way out again. I've been saying I want to for so long, but now I have found the strength and creativity to do it. Only the strength has been there all the time, I just didn't see it.
This has been long and somewhat rambly... but I carry my diamond with me. It's not a clear one (those that know me know that I don't like diamonds because they seem cold to me). No... the diamond I carry is a nice warm Carolina Blue.
I had some time to myself on Friday. Working only in the morning. It's been unusual as it's been taking an age to get anywhere, or get home, so all I've been doing is going to work, coming home, being too tried to do /anything/ and it was getting me down.
So I decided that I would take myself off to the movie theatre. I went to see Harry Potter. Now... before everyone starts wondering if I've fallen out of my tree... no... I didn't go and see it because I was /desperate/ to see the film on its opening day. I'll admit to being curious about it, but the only other thing that was showing anywhere close to the time I reached the theatre was Skyline, and I wasn't in the mood for Alien Invasion Sci-Fi. So Teenage Wizardly Apocolyptic Angstfic won out.
What struck me, though, was how terribly ironic the entire trip was. To explain, (and reference the title). The last time I went to that movie theatre by myself during the afternoon was way back when The Mummy Returns was first out. I was on sickness leave from work at the time, suffering from depression... and the visits to the movie helped. I have been fighting with feelings of depression on and off lately too, and with a distinct lack of creativity, and so I turned again to the medium of movie to give me a lift. It's not exactly escapism... more a sense of - this is a creative media, so perhaps the creativity in me will answer by waking again. It seemed to work - to one degree or another.
But it also made me think of other things too... Here I am, trying to find a way to be more like myself again, to come out from the shell I've retreated into, and open myself to love and to the needs of others over self, (without ignoring self), and the last time I tried was when I was watching The Mummy just about every day, and The Mummy led me to the wonderful woman who is now my spouse, who is being harmed more than any other by my withdrawal. But perspective - It is not for her alone that I desire to heal myself, but for every reason. Most of all, how can I help and heal others if I am too wounded to function myself?
I've been having a great deal of trouble communicating, and particularly communicating emotion. It's been going on far too long and has been very destructive. Recently, we - Mir and I that is - came up with a plan to use the written word to help with that. When we went on our honeymoon recently, I'm sorry to say that Mir was dreadfully sick a first. It's likely that it was American Airlines that had given her food poisoning, so... to give her some solace and comfort I read to her some letters I had written. She said to me, "You write very well." They were her exact words and I remember them so clearly because they moved me a great deal. What she said validated a part of me that is important to me, and which I always worry she does not appreciate. I know tha's silly, it's a battle between head and heart in that, because of course half of me knows that she values all parts of me just as I do of her. But to hear those simple words spoken, it has stayed with me... a little jewel, brighter than any diamond that she could have given to me, and I cherish them.
Anyway... the long and rambling upshot of all of this... I have a book... a journalling book called 'Life Companion.' I thought I would give it a go. And find those points, those true moments to share as I have been trying to do... a little bit at a time... chip away at these walls with which I have surrounded myself to find the way out again. I've been saying I want to for so long, but now I have found the strength and creativity to do it. Only the strength has been there all the time, I just didn't see it.
This has been long and somewhat rambly... but I carry my diamond with me. It's not a clear one (those that know me know that I don't like diamonds because they seem cold to me). No... the diamond I carry is a nice warm Carolina Blue.
