You find yourself thinking of it while you’re doing anything else.

You are constantly thinking of when you can get to it again.

You find yourself putting off eating or sleeping so that you can spend more time with it.

You want to blow off school or social events to get a fix.

You get distracted from things, like getting dressed, because you get pulled in again.

The phrase “five more minutes” runs through your head…and turns into twenty.

 

I’ve picked up the violin again. After at least three years of not playing…I can’t put it down. I found myself geting out of bed in the middle of the night to look up musical theory information. I’m humming to myself when I’m not playing. I daydream about how to get the sound right for a specific piece. I’m studying the techniques and styles behind the music from the Middle East and Ireland. 

My hands are cramping, my fingers are red and sore, I have rosin dust on my clothes.

I sat down in a towel after my shower this morning to play because I couldn’t stand not playing for another minute. 

Instead of taking smoke breaks during my routine like some people do, I’m taking music breaks.

I was at a baby shower yesterday that I helped put together, and all I could think about was getting home and picking up my bow. 

I held it like a guitar when it got too late to play normally and plucked melodies until my eyes burned.

I’m leaving for class in an hour and a half, and I’m already eager to get home and finish my homework so I can play again.

I’m tempted to skip the homework…

I won’t, but it’s SO tempting.

I feel like the kid who won’t stop watching TV to go to school or bed. “Aw, just one more show!”

 

Aw, just one more piece!

…and it eats at me until my own words can’t come. So…poetry.

 

The Time When I First Fell in Love
Anonymous

The time when first I fell in love, 
Which now I must lament; 
The year wherein I lost such time 
To compass my content.

The day wherein I saw too late 
The follies of a lover; 
The hour wherein I found such loss 
As care cannot recover.

And last, the minute of mishap, 
Which makes me thus to plain 
The doleful fruits of lover’s suits, 
Which labour lose in vain:

Doth make me solemnly protest, 
As I with pain do prove, 
There is no time, year, day, nor hour, 
Nor minute, good to love.

 

You Smiled, You Spoke, and I Believed
Walter Savage Landor

You smiled, you spoke, and I believed, 
By every word and smile deceived. 
Another man would hope no more; 
Nor hope I what I hoped before: 
But let not this last wish be vain; 
Deceive, deceive me once again!

I realized something last night. I’m changing…a lot.

Sarcasm, always something I enjoy, has become a defense mechanism for me. I use it to hold people at arm’s length, to dismiss comments and compliments, to keep anyone from getting too close.

I used to laugh so much more than I do now. I used to be hyper and happy, despite struggling with depression. Now…I just feel tired. Instead of laughing at things, I merely smile or give a single soft “ha.” I find myself daydreaming more and more, seeking escape. I study, but have trouble focusing. I know that studying will help me acheive my goals of teaching and everything, but at the moment I am having trouble caring. I force myself, but my heart just isn’t in it… It’s not depression exactly. I feel disconnected. (Except for children. Around children, it’s like I’ve come back to life and feel that joy that I’m missing elsewhere.) I struggle to find other things in my life beyond school, things to give me more meaning. I have things I’m good at and enjoy, but they feel empty of meaning.

I feel alone. I know that I need to be able to face the world by myself, to be able to stand on my own, but I don’t want to. I want to face the world with someone by my side, I want to stand WITH someone, supporting each other. And I worry that until I can get past that soul deep desire, I won’t be able to have it.

I feel so much older than I am. I feel tired and drained and bitter and walled up. I find myself not trusting people, not trusting them to care, and holding myself apart from them despite the fact that I desperately want to make those friendships and more. But the past pain that’s still healing keeps me from getting close…regardless of who they are. 

My faith is still there, stronger than ever. I believe in God more than I ever have. I still feel as though my prayers are getting through. I just feel like it’s a different person praying now than in the past.

I used to believe, despite everything else, that I was going to find a fairy tale, find that great love, that soulmate. Now, though, despite the fact that my faith is stronger than ever, and my beliefs are more concrete…I find myself bitter and jaded and cynical. I don’t believe in fairy tales anymore. I don’t believe that I’m going to find that true love, and I refuse to settle for anything less.

Most of all, I am tired. I am so extremely tired of this being all there is…

Lately, I’ve been feeling a bit lonely. I’m the only female my age at a lot of Baha’i functions. There are several guys my age who show up, but they have formed a tightly knit group that is hard to access. It’s like looking at the Three Musketeers, only they’re modern young Persian guys who play basketball instead of sword fighting. I’m semi-included at events, but feel completely excluded outside of them.

They’re very nice guys, and people that I have some common ground with. I’ve never had a problem having friends of either gender, so I was hoping to possibly make some. I broached the thing that had been bothering me, feeling excluded, with one of them last night, and he said something that made me really frustrated.

He said that he just figured we didn’t have any similar interests/activities outside of the Faith. Now, just from the conversations we’ve had, I know this is untrue. And when he asked what I enjoyed doing, hey! I discovered that we do enjoy a lot of similar things.

What pisses me off is that he took what he’d seen in a limited group atmosphere or heard from other people who sort of know me, and he had assumed that that’s all there was to me. Everyone behaves differently at religious functions, no matter how casual. And I’m more quiet in large groups than I am in smaller ones. More shy. I would have thought that someone who has said that you shouldn’t take people at face value would live by that statement.

A year ago, I would have been hurt. I would have thought that there’s something wrong with me. And I was hurt for a moment, but then I realized something. I have friends covering almost every type of person there is. I’ve always gotten along with almost everyone. I have tons of different layers, and I can find something in common with pretty much anyone I meet. So this isn’t about me. I’m fine. This is about the fact that some people refuse to look beyond the initial impressions to see who’s really there. Snap judgements without questions. Judging a book by its cover.

People do this all the time. Hell, I’ve been guilty of it on occasion. But I also am insatiably curious about lots of things, including people. 99% of the time, I still want to know more about the person. I know that people have lots of facets and layers, and figuring those out is FUN for me. I enjoy learning about people. And I know there are other people out there who are the same way, but not enough. The world would be a lot better off if more people could take the time and initiative to take a second glance.

Next time you meet someone, don’t dismiss them because of appearance or how they’re behaving in one type of situation. Take the time. Look deeper. Search for common ground.

You’ll be surprised at what you find.

The monarchs are migrating south right now…

This means that I get to see these beautiful orange creatures flitting past me on campus quite often. Today, though, I saw one while driving, and the image really stuck with me.

The wind was carrying a yellowed leaf across the road, and this monarch was escorting it…dancing with it through my path…twisting, turning, tumbling…I wondered if the butterfly had at first thought the leaf was another butterfly extending an invitation to join it, only to discover that it was merely a chance breeze that gave it the semblance of life.

I feel like that a lot lately, when it comes to finding love. I see brief glimpses of possibilities or hope, only to discover a moment later that they are really only decaying leaves…

There are flickers or sparks, but they pass, crumbling to dust as soon as I look at them, empty within the shells. I’m always left in the air as that leaf glides to the pavement…and I’m still alone.

Theresa told me that she worries, that she thinks I believe myself unlovable. On some level, I think she’s right. After Sam…well, to be honest, after my life, I feel like as soon as someone sees all of me, including the damaged parts, they want nothing more from me. I feel as though the baggage I carry makes it impossible for anyone to truly love me and accept me, despite it all. Not as someone to spend their life with…

Last night, Vargha (a Baha’i friend) said something about how “baggage defines who we are.” 

I don’t like my definition so much sometimes…

This morning, I woke up to Nancy’s (very loud) demands for attention from under her cage cover. We made coffee and cinnamon toast, grabbed a book and a prayer book, and had breakfast outside on the patio because it’s so GORGEOUS outside right now. (By we, I mean Nancy and me. We have the house to ourselves for the weekend. Mom and Bob are in New Orleans for a conference for Mom.) After eating, I said my morning prayers…and I feel so full right now. 

I feel calm and peaceful and loved and balanced and…all of these things that are sometimes hard for me to find. I feel stronger, more centered, more capable, more hopeful. I’ve been noticing more and more lately that I feel this way after praying. And I find myself wanting to pray for longer when I do sit down with the prayerbook. 

For one of the first times I can ever remember, I actually feel like the prayers are getting through…I think it’s because I tried to stick it out this time, even when I didn’t feel that way. I tried to perservere. And while it didn’t always happen, the motive and intent were honest. And it seems to have worked. I feel like my words are being listened to. I find myself reading the Baha’i Writings more, becoming more interested in the merging of spirituality and psychology, and looking for how I can apply the Baha’i teachings to what I want to do in life. 

I think that, for one of the first times in my life, I actually…firmly…BELIEVE.

I have faith.

I feel very humbled by this…and it’s wonderful.

Ever since Sam, I’ve been trying to avoid developing feelings for guys. At least, feelings that go above and beyond friendly. I haven’t wanted that attachment, that risk, that chance to be hurt again. I guess I don’t have the faith yet that falling for someone won’t end in heartache necessarily. I want to find someone someday, but my pattern has been (so far) to fall for guys who don’t return the sentiment.

Recently I’ve started to hang out with old friends, including some guys. I felt pulled towards two of them, but I couldn’t tell in what capacity. So I spent time with them, learned more about them, all that jazz. I love hanging out with both of them, I love talking with both of them, and I think I’m developing feelings for one. Falling a little. I’m nowhere near loving him, but I find myself interested in what possibilities could be there.

Falling just scares me…TERRIFIES me. Especially when I don’t believe that there is anything more than friendly on his end. I mean, I can’t read signals. I always assume they’re not going to be there, so I miss them…I don’t know.

So I began praying for help and guidance, mostly for help in reversing the process. I enjoy his friendship and I don’t want to lose it to awkwardness from this crap.

The day after this prayer-fest, my weekend becomes full of these amazing married couples, telling the stories of how they met and how to know if someone is right for you and everything. I think that almost every couple I spent time with this weekend either had a relatively quick courtship or a amazing/inspiring one, or both.

Little eerie. 

I mean, what am I supposed to think about that? It almost felt like a big fat neon sign.

I just don’t know what it was saying…I could interpret it a couple of ways. *sigh* More prayer in my future, I suppose.

Today I passed a willow tree and wanted to stand next to it, sink my roots into the earth and spread my hands to the sky, reveling in the warmth and peace that I found by the water…and I realized that, for my soul, it is spring.

For the longest time, I’ve had a blog on LiveJournal. Going back through it recently as I attempted to make all of the posts friends-only, I realized that I’d outgrown it. Everything I’d written was true, but it was all from a person who no longer really exists. I’ve become someone new. And while that’s not a bad thing, I wanted a change to represent that.

I thought about just opening up another account at LJ, starting over…but I feel like I’ve grown past that site in general. I have several friends who have blogs on this site, and I’ve always liked the feel of it when reading theirs, so I decided to try it out.

I’m determined to post here at least once a week. Not about particulars in my life, necessarily, but about anything that might be on my mind. I need to write more, and this will help.

I call this blog “Coming Back to Life” because that’s what I’m doing right now – school, faith, self…I’m rediscovering myself and opening to the world. Emotionally and spiritually, I have been dormant through the cold and dark recent period, but now I can feel the blood warming in my veins. I’m putting out shoots and turning my face towards the sun. I want to twist and stretch and grow past this shell I’ve been in for so long. 

Most of my walls are still up, true, and they probably always will be. There’s only so much burning and breaking you can take without being permanently scarred. Scars aren’t always bad, though. I’ve grown stronger and harder, but I still long for the sun and bend in the breeze. I haven’t died off. To survive, sometimes you have to harden yourself. That doesn’t mean that you stop caring or stop having a love of life.

And I love it…I long for more, crave more. There are so many wonderful possibilities, and I want to experience as many as I can.

I finally feel alive again.