I sat down the other day and spent an hour writing one of the most perfect blogs I think I have ever written. It was elegant, well spoken, conveyed exactly how I was feeling at that time... Then something horrible happened. Yes, my elbow hit the computer before I could back it up and... just like that... it was gone. Just gone. All those words that I so patiently waited to flow in just the right order were just gone. I sat staring at the computer for awhile, thinking maybe I could somehow grab those thoughts, those perfectly put together thoughts back together but I knew I would never truly be able to capture the essence of what I was originally trying to say. So, I accepted the fate of those forgotten words and moved on with my life. After all, perhaps something better for me to write was just around the corner. I did produce a poem after that fiasco that I have to say I am pretty proud of. Believe you me I am my own worst critic. After I write this blog, I will probably read it a million times, find a happy place with it but then want to change a million things after I publish it. It is the nature of this creative beast. Today that lost blog haunted me a bit. While I felt better after I wrote it, the fact that those words never got to fly still irked me a bit. When an incident happened this afternoon, that ghost of a blog started to reform in this head of mine and I remembered at least the gist of what I was so eloquently trying to convey. Now, it might not be as lovely as the first round but it will be just as honest and open as they always are.
Over the last few weeks, I've sort of been struggling with life for a lack of better words. Everything is fine. Nothing is wrong. It could always be better. I've struggled with this need to be needed, with how let down I feel when my efforts get slammed down, shooed away like a little annoying fly. When I have tried to help, I get scolded. When I attempt to turn the other cheek, I get blasted anyway. It bothers me, probably more than it should, but it bothers me a lot. When I was a little girl, my mother told me that every time she was sad I would walk towards her with my arms open to give her comfort. No, I don't really remember that but I can remember being super aware of the people around me. I got angry if you got angry. I was sad if you were sad. I was happy when you were happy. Every emotion that was presented around me, I felt it ten times over. That's the problem with being an empathetic person. You just feel way too much and you don't know how to turn it off sometimes. In the last few weeks, I've felt the tension in my life. Some days I can shake it off. Others I can't. I offer my help and it gets shut down because of misconceptions of my intentions. I feel like there is so much about me that is an open book. I feel like anyone at any time can go to my words, look at my pictures, just see the way my eyes move and know exactly how I feel about whatever is in presented to me. I've felt a little bit like Eeyore lately, feeling like any attempts I've made to make things better for the people around me have been for nothing. I just want us all to eat cake, man. Today I wish I could have voiced how aggravated I felt but I knew it was pointless. I want to be that person who helps. I want to take care of you and me and her and him and them. And I don't want to lose the desire to make the world a better place any way that I can but, I guess, over the last few weeks it's been getting harder to hold onto the little light of mine. It's been getting harder to make it shine.
And, of course, I'm being completely melodramatic. I am completely aware of myself at all times. Sometimes though I have to get all those over sized thoughts out of my head to really get to the core of why I am writing. You got to push the clutter out of the way to find the truth. I guess I realized today that if people question my intentions, they probably don't need to be a part of my life. I think I live pretty honestly. I think I do the right thing more often than I don't. I know that I care too much about things and people who probably don't deserve that much out of me but I don't mind. I want you to smile and laugh and sing and do silly dances for no reason. I want to help you be the best version of you that you can be. I want all of us to live this life together, all together with no exceptions. I have always gotten the fact that there will be people out there who can not fight for themselves and I have always been willing to fight for them. And sometimes I put myself in harms way because of it but I always stand back up. I offer my hand and, like today, it may get slapped away. It doesn't mean I regret my choice. I can sleep easy at night knowing that my intentions are good. And when my intentions are questioned? I suppose there is nothing I can do about that. I suppose I have to learn to accept that sometimes people just don't get it, don't get me. You know what? That's not on me. That's on them. That's on them when I know what kind of person I am. It's silly to let anything, anyone like that dictate what kind of person I am. But instead of vowing my revenge on them? Yes, instead of declaring war, I will continue to offer my hand because that's who I am. I will take the lessons of the last few weeks, find the meaning, and forget the rest just like a wise man once told me. Because somewhere in there, that better version of myself lies.