So I got angry because I felt excluded, sidelined, marginalised and ignored. Yes I felt all these things and before I would have understood. Before I would have knows he is preoccupied and stressed. Before I would have waited it out. Things will return to normal and he would be in my space again. Tomorrow things would have calmed down and all will be as it were.
But tomorrow is not to be. It belongs to another. Another is holding her breath and looking forward to tomorrow. I will have to wait till the next day and hope that the next day will not also pan out as today did. Will not also end up being lost, alone and empty. Because other more urgent matters arise.
And then little gremlins start popping up. Start whispering like vicious little devils in your ears. Whispers that creates pain and fear and discontent. Everything start looking like something. Nothing start looking like something. Something that you are not getting, that you do not have.Something that wish for and desire and longs for. You feel cheated and robbed. Robbed of what is yours and what is your right. And she is not to blame. It is her right too, yet she seem to be so gracious about everything and I’m everything but. Is there even anyone to be blamed? No! No blame. Just demons screaming in your heart and creating noise in your head. And you pain. So much that you have an intense desire to just close up and shut down, for if you close up and shut down, you do not feel. And if you do not feel, you cannot hurt. You cannot pain.
Time has become your worst enemy. Your primary source of fear. Fear of loneliness and fear of becoming obsolete. Yesterday’s news. Redundant and old. You know the reality is that it is not so, but these damn devils keep whispering, screaming, making you hear. Forcing you to listen.
So why the doubt?
Why the lack of faith?
Why do I need so much reassurance and reaffirmation?
Is it because of past trust issues and past insecurities? Why can I not trust and believe without any doubt? Why am I so careful? Is it fear of getting hurt by those you think and believe love you? In the past you were also loved. Or so you thought. There were hidden, selfish and painful agendas. That hurt, crippled, and near destroyed you.
But that was then. Now is different. You won that battle and annihilated the enemy. Victory was yours!!! So why do you still feel fear and pain. Is it just a bad habit? A habit that wont die. I feel like giving up. Letting everything go and giving everything freedom. Freedom to do and say and make without me. Without having to consider me and complicate things. Because I am damaged, irreparable, corrupted and lost. I should be cut loose before anyone else get pulled down by me.
Am I asking too much? Do I even have the right to ask or to expect, to want, to need, to wish. Maybe not. Maybe never.
So I will just stick to the familiar which brings me to the bottom line.
And that bottom line is…
I am never to be happy .
Never to be content.
Never to be at peace.
Maybe my contentment lies elsewhere and is not due now. So will stop trying and just wait.
So I will wait…
Please Hear What I’m Not Saying
By Charles C. Finn
Don’t be fooled by me.
Don’t be fooled by the face I wear
For I wear a mask, a thousand masks,
Masks that I’m afraid to take off
And none of them is me.
Pretending is an art that’s second nature with me,
but don’t be fooled,
for God’s sake don’t be fooled.
I give you the impression that I’m secure,
that all is sunny and unruffled with me,
within as well as without,
that confidence is my name and coolness my game,
that the water’s calm and I’m in command
and that I need no one,
but don’t believe me.
My surface may be smooth but
my surface is my mask,
ever-varying and ever-concealing.
Beneath lies no complacence.
Beneath lies confusion, and fear, and aloneness.
But I hide this. I don’t want anybody to know it.
I panic at the thought of my weakness exposed.
That’s why I frantically create a mask to hide behind,
a nonchalant sophisticated facade,
to help me pretend,
to shield me from the glance that knows.
But such a glance is precisely my salvation,
my only hope, and I know it.
That is, if it is followed by acceptance,
If it is followed by love.
It’s the only thing that can liberate me from myself
from my own self-built prison walls
from the barriers that I so painstakingly erect.
It’s the only thing that will assure me
of what I can’t assure myself,
that I’m really worth something.
But I don’t tell you this. I don’t dare to. I’m afraid to.
I’m afraid you’ll think less of me,
that you’ll laugh, and your laugh would kill me.
I’m afraid that deep-down I’m nothing
and that you will see this and reject me.
So I play my game, my desperate, pretending game
With a façade of assurance without
And a trembling child within.
So begins the glittering but empty parade of Masks,
And my life becomes a front.
I tell you everything that’s really nothing,
and nothing of what’s everything,
of what’s crying within me.
So when I’m going through my routine
do not be fooled by what I’m saying.
Please listen carefully and try to hear what I’m not saying,
what I’d like to be able to say,
what for survival I need to say,
but what I can’t say.
I don’t like hiding.
I don’t like playing superficial phony games.
I want to stop playing them.
I want to be genuine and spontaneous and me
but you’ve got to help me.
You’ve got to hold out your hand
even when that’s the last thing I seem to want.
Only you can wipe away from my eyes
the blank stare of the breathing dead.
Only you can call me into aliveness.
Each time you’re kind, and gentle, and encouraging,
each time you try to understand because you really care,
my heart begins to grow wings —
very small wings,
With your power to touch me into feeling
you can breathe life into me.
I want you to know that.
I want you to know how important you are to me,
how you can be a creator–an honest-to-God creator —
of the person that is me
if you choose to.
You alone can break down the wall behind which I tremble,
you alone can remove my mask,
you alone can release me from the shadow-world of panic,
from my lonely prison,
if you choose to.
Please choose to.
Do not pass me by.
It will not be easy for you.
A long conviction of worthlessness builds strong walls.
The nearer you approach me
the blinder I may strike back.
It’s irrational, but despite what the books may say about man
often I am irrational.
I fight against the very thing I cry out for.
But I am told that love is stronger than strong walls
and in this lies my hope.
Please try to beat down those walls
with firm hands but with gentle hands
for a child is very sensitive.
Who am I, you may wonder?
I am someone you know very well.
For I am every man you meet
and I am every woman you meet.
For the past week I have been grappling with my health. My one kidney struggling to do its job resulting in toxemia. I have forgotten how ill you can feel when struggling with renal problems. The constant nausea, headaches, dizziness and tiredness. Before I didn’t quite realise the seriousness of having renal problems, but as I am now getting older I have come to the realisation that I can and would probably die of renal failure unless something else comes up before then. And it will. I know that. I have always felt that old age was not something I should look forward to. Longevity was not part of my life plan or path.
Which made me reflect on many things. And then I remembered what someone , well more than one person actually, had asked me. When I , we, embarked on this journey or a polygamous marriage and I informed those I felt needed to know, I was asked whether I was dying. I was a bit surprised if not a little perturbed by this very unexpected question. “Why are you asking me that?” was my confused response. “Well”, I was informed, “It seem as though you are getting things in place for your family for when you not there anymore. Someone to be a wife for your husband and a mother to your children. Obviously someone you trust and know will be good for your family.” Needless to say I totally dispelled any such notion to the extent that I found this kind of paranoia funny and laughable.
However now 5 months down the line, and having been really sick for the first time in years, I find myself questioning my mortality. Questioning the journey Allah has put me on. Questioning how building blocks have been laid down seemingly in isolation, over an extended period of time. But upon reflection and retrospection all these random and isolated instances and emotional growth and movement seem anything but random and isolated. They seem to be part of an elaborate and covert plan architected by a higher power with a vision that is obscured from to us.
Question is: Am I that special that Allah would afford me the gift of having the peace of mind that those I love is taken care of and are all together to be a support to each other when I no longer walk this earth. Maybe this is the reward for all my pain and suffering all of my life. I believe in a fair and benevolent Creator and if this elaborate plan indeed is the gift of peace of mind than the benevolence of my Allah is confirmed and I regard myself special, chosen and lucky.
In in that light I want to say thank you. Thank you Allah for caring enough for me to do all of this for me. I stand before you ready and waiting for whatever the next journey is that you taking me on. Be it longevity or death. I am ready…