Scotophilia

I don’t know the relevance of the song, but it’s running through my head as well. I honestly don’t know here this post is going to go, but I feel like I need to try and get it out. So please, bear with me through what is near-invariably going to be an incoherent post that last any semblance of cohesion.

So, I was thinking (see: overthinking) as I was driving tonight. And this once, it seems like maybe my more in-depth approach to scrutinizing the world may have actually been beneficial. At least, I hope it was. But my thoughts were surrounding and dissecting depression.

Depression is something that I have been fighting on and off for as long as I can remember, and it always seems like when I feel as thought I’ve beaten it, it comes back for another round; and almost always stronger than before. To be candid, I’ve been battling with it pretty heavily the last year or so, and it seems to be ramping up now. But the thoughts about it that I had tonight seemed to strike a pretty personal and meaningful resonance with me. Depression isn’t just some feeling that one might have. It isn’t just sadness. It isn’t just lethargy. It isn’t just feelings of worthlessness or undesirability. It isn’t just a lack of motivation. It is all of these, and more; it almost becomes a way of life. And it doesn’t just go away.

There are days when I feel almost perfectly content, and am happy and excited for life. And on those days, I start to hope that I have stuffed depression into a deep dark hole, and left it for good. And I love those days. Man do I! But those days are just that: days. There is no switch. There is no process to just turn depression “off”. But I do have those good days. Days where I enjoy life, and whatever I may be doing at the time. On those days, I am social, and try to be a pleasure to have around. I engage in activities with those I am around, and try to have/be fun. But as with all things, those days have their polar opposites. And today, that’s the day I am having.

But today was a little different. Today, I tried. I tried to socialize. I tried to look at the day through a happier tint. I put forth the effort. And because of that, I believe, I was able to review the day through a more objective filter. And while I feel like I may have failed to bring a bit more joy into my own day, it did afford me a realization. While I have known for a LONG time that I am an introvert, I was starting to hope and believe that I was actually an ambivert. My realization today was that notion is simply not true. I am an introvert through and through. And being a depressed introvert is a very bad thing, for me. Being around too many people for too long drains me. And in being drained, I lack the energy and focus necessary to keep my depression at bay.

Like I said, I don’t really know where this post is going. I guess, to really break it down to its intent and meaning is simply this: I live with depression. I will have my good days, but mostly bad days. And while I struggle with that, I know that you all are struggling with me. And all I can ask is this: please bear with me. I know it’s getting old. Believe me, I know. It’s getting old to me, too. Please enjoy the good days with me, but also please understand that I don’t even know what I need for those bad days.

It is only when we quiet our minds and listen with our hearts that we can hear an ever-present cry for longing; a longing for the ecstasy felt when we allow our souls to reach out and embrace one-another. This longing is not a dull roar, lost amidst the bustle of life. Nay! It is a scream that resounds within us all, which we have subconsciously learned to ignore or project as a disquiet rooted in the inherent suffering that is to be human. Let not your screams be lost to the night. Let not your soul be deprived of the companionship of the souls around you. Believe not that the upset that you feel in what should be your perfect world, is just the distant cry of a poor being wandering through the cold, dark night. That cry is you. That scream is you. That hand, reaching for the warm and loving embrace of another is you. Realize this, and you will begin to see people in light anew. We are all just souls, searching in the night. And some of us? Some of us are lucky enough to find one-another.

I’m done. I am giving in, and giving up. I thought, at one time, I knew what love was. The warmth. The comfort. The happiness. And the sense of belonging. And it was all of that, but it was also more. It was hurt. It was pain. It was a visceral rending of my soul. Love was a fire that was kindled in my heart, and kept it beating. But then it got out of control. It started raging. And when it departed, it left a burnt husk that was scarcely recognizable.

But I rebuilt myself. I steeled the walls of my heart. I wanted to know love again, but I wanted to be prepared for the heat next time. It took some time, but I thought that I had found someone that I would willingly allow to rekindle a little flame. I didn’t expect much, but I was open to it. And the more I learned, the larger the flame grew. Bigger. And bigger. And bigger. Dare I say it, was there love again? I don’t know; how could I? But it was there, bringing a little more warmth to me with each passing day. And it felt good, so… so good. I started to stoke it, encouraging it with dreams and hope that were a foolish disregard for what I had learned in the past. I allowed myself to dare to hope that she might be the one. But I thought the last was the one, as well. But there was something different with her; something, whole. Even subconsciously, I wanted her, without knowing it was her. I felt like Quasimodo with Esmeralda: “I dared to dream that she, might even care for me.”

And there may be some truth to that notion, somewhere down inside her. But, I’ll never know. I’ve given in, and I’ve given up. Perhaps it’s a cliche instance of the right person at the wrong time, or perhaps it’s simply me placing her on a pedestal; I’ll never know. This pain isn’t worth it, to feel over and over, day in and day out. Knowing that she’s right there, sometimes literally within arm’s reach, and there’s nothing that I can do. A topic of discussion was made the other night, and actions after it were the apex of the pain. I won’t say that the flame grew beyond control again; I don’t believe it got that far. Rather, it ignited the scorched wounds from before. There is no longing for lovers past, nor desire to know their arms again. But the freshly renewed scars are those of longing in such a primordial and fundamental way, that I cannot ignore them. I’ve given up, and I’m giving in. If what I feel now is a result of emotions that hadn’t even had the chance to culminate, I’m scared of what might happen were they allowed to with someone again. There was a very real, and very painful, crack in my heart. I could feel the desire to go on slipping away like wine from a broken glass. What was a night of revelry and joy quickly turned to a night of hurt and sorrow. And I’m done.

I am done feeling it all. I am done allowing myself to be subject to the unwitting whims of others. I’m done allowing damnable emotion run my life. I am done quietly acquiescing to the irrational demands of a love-sick heart. I’m done being burned. Instead of simply steeling the walls of my heart again, in an attempt to make them a bit more fire-proof, I am erecting a veritable fortress in which my heart may find solitude and solace, never to be burned again.

It’s time to focus on me. It’s time to stop wasting energy trying to find the “missing part”. I am not broken. I am not a puzzle that needs a piece the manufacturer mistakenly left out. I am not a lock that requires a key to be of use. I am whole. I am important. I am me. Despite the connotations of the attached song, I see no obstacle. I see no woman. I see no love. Between the Devil and me, there is nothing. The fires have taken it all, and I will walk boldly into the world knowing this. The blackened chasm within my chest will be made new again. The flesh of those walls will beat again. But not with love. No, not with love.

They instead will beat with a ferocity rivaling the power of the Sun. New focus will be refined from their cosmic rhythms. A new me will begin to grow, and fill that vast expanse. A cynical me. A colder me. A better me. And when I have had the necessary time to gestate, there will be nothing that I cannot do. There will be no obstacle in my way. I will look through, and see beyond each step I take, and I will take them in strides that will the earth shaking. Nothing will stop me. Nothing will slow me. Nothing will burn me again.

To live in love, is to live in fear.

I must not fear.
Fear is the mind-killer.
Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration.
I will face my fear.
I will permit it to pass over me and through me.
And when it has gone past, I will turn the inner eye to see its path.
Where the fear has gone there will be nothing.
Only I will remain.

I must not love.
Love is the mind-killer.
Love is the little-death that brings total obliteration.
I will face my love.
I will permit it to pass over me and through me.
And when it has gone past, I will turn the inner eye to see its path.
Where the love has gone there will be nothing.
Only I will remain.

Let the lover die, and let the monster rise. I am me.

**Work in progress**

There exists a very real magic in our world. Such a magic is so freely available for all of us to access and use, we need only find the proverbial key that aids us in unlocking its potential. The interesting thing about this key though, is that it’s not some inanimate object hidden away somewhere. It’s not some mythical relic we need to unearth and engage. It’s a person; a living, breathing, individual whose own potential for accessing this astounding and amazing magic rivals, and complements, our own.

I’ve been listening to this song for a fair bit now, and it’s served to lead me into something of a quandary: perfection. I am likely to come across as a cold-hearted cynic for this post. And be that as it may, these are my thoughts, and mine alone.

There is this archaic notion that perfection exists in the form of a mate to make us whole. After some thought, and quite a bit of it these last few years, I have determined that this is simply an antiquated concept perpetuated by individuals that cannot, or simply will not, grasp reality. We, as a whole, are not perfect. Humans are flawed. We are full of genetic defects, malformations, illnesses, and weakness; imperfection bounds with leaps and strides through our very physical constitution. On the inverse, we are rife with mental deficiencies that can render us invalid, cruel, and unstable. We possess traits that, while some may consider advantageous or desirable, others deem obnoxious and detrimental to an interpersonal relationship. Given that, it can potentially be said that a perfect person (see: mate) would be able to see past these imperfections, and accept us as we are. Therein lays the root of the fallacy: acceptance simply does not negate the flaws. That, and they are imperfect themselves, no matter our own acceptance.

How is it then, that we as perfectly imperfect creatures, can justifiably seek out a perfect person with whom we can find solace, completion, and acceptance, without spending the entirety of our lives alone? A perpetual quest for something or someone that does not and cannot exist, with the expectation of successfully acquiring such a pairing, should and does lead to depression all too often. Perfection is a lie. We are not expertly crafted cogs, seeking another cog with whom our teeth interlace with the precision of the Divine. We are messes. We are bearers of plague, pestilence, and deformity. We are the heralds of our own demise, and the trumpeters of the refuse. We are not meant to interface with one-another without a hitch. We are not intended to fit so effortlessly with another person that there cannot be encountered issues.

Now, please allow me to redeem myself, and show that I am not heartless and entirely devoid of compassion, love, or the capacity to care (although, I often wish that I were lately). As I previously stated, we are not meant to be perfect. Perfection is boring. Perfection breeds stagnation and boredom. When things fit too well, there leaves no room for growth and achievement. There cannot be goals, there cannot be progress, and there cannot be a drive to be better; perfection has attained these, and cannot be improved upon by its very definition. We need hiccups. We need competition. We need a drive to be more than we think we are. To acquiesce to life is to accept defeat, and inevitably death. Instead, we strive to fight it tooth and nail. We yearn to challenge ourselves and one-another consistently. We want more. We want better. We want perfect, but we don’t want to be perfect.

That is what a perfect mate would be. Perfection exists solely because of the pursuit to achieve it. Perfection is someone willing to work through the hardships, malformations in pairing, deformations of character and mind, and defects that persist through our species as a whole, all while you do the same with them.

Bah. I’ve lost my train of thought, and I honestly cannot think of what it was about this song, specifically, that triggered my postulation of this subject. All I can focus on right now is that we are imperfect, and to seek perfection is a fool’s errand. Instead, we should seek imperfection as close to ours as possible, while still allowing for malleability and moulding with one-another. To be perfect is to be impossible. Without room for growth and maturation, there is no reason to continue.

I am putting this here so that I have a more semi-permanent home for it, other than a yearly reminder of past posts on Facebook. I want to incorporate this into my story somehow.

OP: This is the day that Atlas did more than merely shrug. The burden has become too much and on his back he now lays bruised and broken.

Rev. 1: This is the day that Atlas did more than merely shrug; the weight of the burden has grown too much. And now, on the back which once held the very world, he lays bruised and broken.

I’ll not be simply placed unto the sides; do you think me so gullible a fool? Perhaps I am, for allowing it to be wrought this far. I’ll not be as a sheep, led to pasture until the time in which it’s needed. Nay; instead, I’ll be the wolf. I will present unto thee as the thorn upon the rose of a life you do foolishly believe you lead.

You seek to sequester my strengths and might with those of the lemmings, and expect me to be lead so blindly into a pale oblivion?! Heed these words I impart unto thee: tend thy flock with graceful hand and wary touch. Watch thy disciples with gleeful eye, and forlorn concern. For where once you falsely believed you had stationed a fool, instead hides a monster; a monster which bides its time until a roar of the ages be made sounded.

I’ll not be placed. Verily, I’ll acquiesce to your inane and faltered control in the guise of complacency. But be warned: beneath the placid surface of my canny facade lays a beast whom will rule your mind with an iron claw. You seek to render a feeble hound docile, yet instead you sow the seeds of your very demise, which shall destroy you from within. I am the man. I am the beast. I am your doom.

Heed these words, lest ye be foolhardy enough so to think as though you retain control…

So, I have had a goodly few people ask me the following questions, and I decided to sit down and write my answers out. Bear in mind that I am a person, and my wants/desires/requirements my change, but these are as they currently stand.

1. She must be beautiful; I do not only mean in purely the shallow aesthetic sense. I would be a liar were I to not say that I must find her physcially appealing, but that is far and removed from my only meaning of the word “beautiful”. I must find her mind as equally or more attractive than her outwardly appearances. I must be able to smile simply by hearing her talk. I must be wanting to hear her sing. I must feel challenged and encouraged to think when she asks me a question. To me, these are beauty.

2. Music. I am not saying that we have to listen to all of the same music all of the time, but we must have some interests in common. Music is a large part of my life, and I’ve already lived with a significant other that shared little-to-no similarity in musical tastes with me;  I’ll not do it again, it’s too important to me.

3. Confidence. She must be confident in herself, and at least have an idea of where she wants her life to go, and what she’d like to do with it. I don’t expect her to have a perfectly laid out roadmap of every little thing and plan, but she must have an idea; hell, I am 27, and I am still deciding *exactly* what I want to do, but I have a damn good idea.

4. Interests. As with music, I do not expect, nor want, us to have exactly the same interests in everything we do and enjoy; but we must have some. We must have common topics on which we can have discussions, debates, and time spent in. I understand that there are more than a goodly few couples out there that have entirely separate interests and still get along just fine; I cannot be a part of one of them. For me, there needs to be a mutual ground on which we can trod, or I know that I will grow bored and weary of being around a person, as I would likely rather be doing something else more enjoyable with my time.

5. Competitiveness. I am a highly competitive creature by nature, and I need someone that can indulge that aspect of my personality. But at the same time, I know when not to be, and I need that as well. I am a firm believer of the philosophy that competition breeds advancement and growth, and I want that in an intimiate relationship. I want someone that can keep up with me, toe to toe, and even “whup” me every once in awhile. But on that same token, I do not want someone that sees everything and every encounter as an opportunity for a contest; they need to be able to know when the time is right or not. And in that, I cannot and will not be with a sore loser. Feeling resentment over something that I find to be enjoyable and entertaining is a huge turn off for me, and I simply will not tolerate it as a characteristic of the person that I want to marry.

6. Affection. On this topic, I am a fickle fiend. There are moments where I want nothing more than to cuddle and talk, and have nothing else going on; no t.v., no phones, no nada (except maybe music). But then there are times where I not only want to be alone, I need it. I am a highly introverted person at my core, and I need time to “recharge” so to say. But that is another of my fickle facets: I need someone that will be able to tell when I truly need to be alone, and when I am simply sequestering myself as a means of seeking attention. As loathe as I am to admit it, there are most definitely times that I will remove myself from a situation as a means of garnering attention. But in those moments, it is almost always the attention of a singular person that I want. It’s a little inane of me, but I feel as though it is sometimes a test to see how “in tune” we are with one-another.

7. Emotional openness. I am not the best at outwardly and overtly expressing my emotions and feelings, but I do pride myself at the work I put into doing so. Growing up, I relegated most emotions (good or bad) to an internal compartmentalization section of my mind, so it has taken a lot for me to break that habit, but I most definitely am. In that regard, I need someone that is willing and able to be open with me, and won’t expect me to pick up on subtlety; usually I can, and am generally pretty quick at such, but I am by no means perfect.

8. Communicability. I need someone willing and able to talk to me, and about anything and everything. I need someone that can voice their displeasures and pleasures of something with me. I need someone that I can hold a conversation with, no matter how random the topics may become (and believe me, they *will* become random; I have a quad-core brain with no shut-off switch). I need someone that will not get annoyed with me when I ask them how they are doing or what they are thinking/feeling, no matter how many times a day; sometimes it will be often, other days not so much.

9. Quirkiness. I need someone not afraid to break societal molds, and is willing to explore new avenues of expression and acceptance. I am an odd individual, and desire that in my future wife. I am a firm believer in true equality, and will expect that from my partner. But in that, I am also very old fashioned. I believe in being a gentleman, and expect my significant other to behave appropriately when the time calls for it. I adore doting on people, and will indulge every opportunity to do so that I can. I want a queen to my king, but at the same time a Harley to my Mr. J. I want a lady to my gentleman, but also a River Song to my Doctor.

10. Honesty. This is one point that I cannot stress enough: I want honesty, loyalty, and faithfulness. I want a transparent relationship, where we can tell one-another anything and everything, and not feel ashamed. I believe we should have passwords on our phones/computers/etc, but I believe that we should both have full and unabridged access to those things; if ever someone in a relationship feels that they must hide a text/picture/comment/message/whatever from the other, and would feel ashamed about it should it be brought to light, that will not work for me. If there is no transparency, there is no trust. And without trust, a relationship cannot last.

So, these are the first ten things that I can think of right now. I will come back and edit this list as more come to mind, of course, but these are what I feel are most important to me right now. Now, as to the story behind the tattoo, I suppose I can enlighten the masses in that regard. I was married. I married my high school sweetheart, and was in that marriage for nearly 5 of the 8 years we were together. This tattoo serves as a reminder of a few things, but the applicable one is as follows:

At the core of bliss and loss ultimately lays love; this is represented for me by the joining of the angelic wing and demonic wing by a fractured heart. The heart for me is fractured as a representation of the pain and agony I felt at losing what I believed was my life. In a single sentence, everything I had known for my adult life was ripped from me, and I was left with a gaping hole that is only now starting to truly heal. But it was not all bad, in that I was able to utilize it as a very important, and very thorough, learning experience. I know better now who it is that I am, as well as what type of woman that I want to spend the rest of my life with. As such, when and if the day comes that I am ready to propose again, I will have the heart filled in and completed. Given that it is ink in my skin, rest assured that the decision will not be made lightly, and I will weigh all of the options, pros, and cons, of such a decision. Truth be told, I am a hopeless romantic, and have always worn my heart on my sleeve; the tattoo was just a physical manifestation of who I have been for as long as I can remember.

Well, there you have it: the qualities I am looking for in a wife, and one of the meanings behind my tattoo. I am an open book, and you need simply turn to the page you want to read. If the above is not enough, just ask 🙂

First and foremost: thank you to those that have been talking to me in the last few days, and helping me to get through the veritable emotional rollercoaster that is this move.

Second: I found something tonight. Something that I honestly had completely forgotten about. And to be completely honest? I needed to find it. Of (nearly) everything I have found in those boxes so far, this is the most important. I found a letter that I had written to myself in 2006. It was the last assignment of my high school psychology class, and the assignment was to write a letter to our future selves with words that we thought that form of ourself might need most; if only Mr. Franklin had known how much it would eventually mean to me… And without further hesitancy:

——————————————

Dear Jeremy,

Read these words. Heed them, and keep them in mind: never give up. Never. Even when you feel at your lowest, keep your head up, because things will get better. Much better.

On a personal note (as if a letter to yourself isn’t the very definition of “personal note”): resist ALL temptations that cause you to question yourself, or that make you feel untrue to yourself. Don’t take to mind what peple say or think about you, for very few will matter. And those that do matter, will matter the most; but none so much as yourself. Keep your head level, your heart open, and your mind as a sponge. For all that you do, make sure that you learn something from each experience. And keep in mind that the person you are meant to spend the rest of your life with and love with all of your heart is not perfect (and neither are you). They will say something that will hurt you deeply, and do something that will make you feel like your world is ending.

But even in moments like that, it will have been worth it. You will be a better person for it, and will eventually grow into who and what you are meant to be, because of it. But the best advice I can give you right now, is to be yourself and never change simply for the sake of changing. Only grow and change as necessary to be the very best you that you KNOW you can be; don’t let others influence you in ways that cause you to stray from your path. You know where you want to be, and what you want to do. Do it. Just do it. Do not make excuses, make strides. Make leaps, and make bounds. You will stray from your path every once in awhile, but you must remain true to you and only you. Do this, and we will make it through this crazy carnival that we call life.

With faith, hope, & honesty,

You.

——————————————

Eerie, isn’t it? As my friend Jordan said, “…[T]hat’s incredible. Looks like you really are the only one who can give yourself therapy.” It truly astounds me how I could have written that to myself, because of an assignment in my PSYCHOLOGY class, and have so very much of it quite literally come true. Even through all of the struggles I have been facing in repacking certain boxes (which I had not touched since I moved), I really cannot express how much this letter has served to help me realign my mind, heart, and goals. I want to extend a very big, and very sincere, thank you to everyone that has helped me in these last few days. I don’t think I would have been standing on the right foundation to appreciate this letter, had you not all helped me overcome the obstacles when they presented themselves to me. I cannot express my thanks adequately, outside of sticking true to the letter, and myself, and moving on and forward and working towards being the best “me” that I can. It’s my time to roll!