I’m learning to be a fish, not even a fish, to live without oxygen altogether. I’m learning I don’t need it the way I thought I did. My life was a gingerbread castle one crack away from being tomorrow’s dessert. Thank god I started laying bricks before I got brittle, but there’s a lot of work yet to be done and the air is dry.
I’ve been stupid, I’ve been dumb. I’m still a little dumb, I’m still a little stupid. I’m lost and I’m not pitiful, I’m arrogant and still kind of capable but not capable enough to fit the gargantuan space I’ve carved out for myself.
So what do I do now? There are too many holes in my deflated balloon of self worth to float. But there in is an opportunity. Here at the bottom, filled with sharp rocks and seaweed and plankton suspended, is the space and time I need to fix myself.
In this exercise, I can have no pride. Pride is the heaviness with which all hope of overcoming these demons are lost. Pride is the antithesis of completion of my “rise again”. It will sink me over and over and over again.
So, instead, I must find humility always. Painful humility that pricks and smarts, and constantly reminds me how very small I am. How very small I have always been especially when I was pretending to be quite large.
I hope eventually it will prick, smart less. That hard work will be a helpful antidote to the pain and the suffering will alleviate the alienation. I have to assume that the wound is rawest now, fresh and since exposed will heal, will scar, will show signs of imperfection but function for me fine.
I am but one of billions of shining lights.