Anxiety. Calm. Panic. Tired. I can’t remember the point anymore. So many arguments and bad memories but in that moment that is not what I think about anymore. All I can feel is the heat in my ears, the lump in my throat and a confusing mixture of sadness and hopelessness and letting go. My hands are trembling and my stomach is jumping. I am caught between holding on and letting go. I’m resisting what I have known was the inevitable. Clinging and grabbing at thin air. Air made thinner and thinner by the lack of feelings between us. Where there was once a swampy thick heady mixture of lust and feeling and emotion, now there is just this. Just you and me and a phone connection. It is human nature to connect and hold on. We hold onto dreams when we know they aren’t realistic, we hold onto hope when its presence crushes us, we hold onto people when we should just show them the door. I was never good at letting go. I still have scraps of paper from my childhood. I put sentiment in every action. I imbue objects with meaning long after they lose their function and familiarity. Relics of a life yet lived. So sitting there, gasping for breath and clinging to the memory of hope, I fool myself again. I do what I know I do so well and I lie to myself. I cannot lie to anyone. It’s written on my face, all blushing and darting eyes, screaming “this isn’t true, I’m sorry” but I am an expert at lying to myself. I can’t act but I’m an actress in my own life. I tell myself whatever it takes to stop change. To prevent the crash. To unexploded my life. But one of the mysteries of life is that even with our maniacal need to have hope and dreams, when the dust settles and you take that first true deep breath for yourself, there is a deep relief in beginning again. Real adventure in the remaking of yourself.
Creaking footsteps on the worn wooden steps announce the intruder in the silence of the evening. The tarnished brass handle is cold to her touch and stiff at the turning. The door squeaks on its hinges and falls inwards as if inviting its visitor to proceed. The room is dark save for a stream of light from the skylight. The sun is setting and the hazy warm orange glow guides her eyes across the jumble. The stillness of the room tells of its history, unused and solitary, guarding its treasures. Each footstep whispers to the silence, echoing off the walls, speaking to the room and the room speaking back. The air is heavy and thick with the smell of some long forgotten memory of the house. It envelops its guest, holding her in that moment, in the half light. Fingers tracing the dusty lines and hollow corners of the contents of the room. She knew what she was looking for, buried deep under lampshades and manuals. Hidden in the back where it couldn’t stare at her with all its knowing. Since she had heard the news from a friend she could feel it calling her, beating and pulsing and drawing her attention away. She moves the debris of the past tentatively out of the way. Hands feel for the dusty, heavy weight of the box. Just an old shoe box, cardboard and ink, damp to the touch. At first she just holds the box, appreciating its weight and watches the dust float and fall in the fading light. Then as if by some realization she steps and turns back towards the light of the stairway. The steps creak in protest of her weight as she sits down on the top step. She runs her fingertips over the edges and along the lid. She can feel the anticipation buzzing as if from the box itself, its contents ready to explode out and create from within all of the feelings that writers and poets alike describe. Buried so long ago and calling to her ever since, full of happiness, horror, longing, fright and worst of all: remembering.
So I figure I should pen these before I go to bed although its technically been new years for 12 hours already (start as you mean to continue eh?? :)).
I make resolutions every year and like most usually forget them two weeks later. They are often more of the same things every year (weight, money, goals etc). So this year I wanted to give myself some small manageable goals and some more broad things to aspire too.
2015 was an epic year which started better than it ended but that is also just a matter of my perspective. In january I was returning home to New York, to my apartment in the upper east side where I worked for a huge prestigious hospital. All year long I had trips home to see my loved ones and many friends came to visit! After a summer of fun and adventures in the big city I moved home to start medicine, my lifelong goal and dream.
While I love my course and the experiences I am having, I didn’t keep much perspective or work/life balance in the last 6 months (or in life in general) so a big emphasis of my resolutions is on gaining back some of the chances I put to one side in the last few years. To make a better, happier, healthier, stronger person one day at a time.
- Make my life more “momentous”: I think about the big picture too much. Where I will be in ten years, what I plan and don’t plan etc. I want to consciously focus more on enjoying the individual small moments that make up everyday and make up the best memories. By focusing on small enjoyable moments everyday it can lead me onto my other resolutions.
- Be more positive: I naturally tend towards the negative and this year more than ever I want to focus on all the good. Im very lucky and very loved and the end of 2015 has shown me this more than ever. I have lived a thousand lifetimes in my 29 years and its time to see the good instead of the small faults. It wot be an easy task, probably one of the hardest as it involves changing my own views but it is something I need to work on.
- Live day-to-day: I am a planner and that can feed into negative thoughts as plans can take time to come to fruition and can feel like a failure before success. So a new focus this year will be to treat each day like a new separate entity. If its a good day then it is a special moment and if it is a bad time then I only have to think of that moment in time and not worry about tomorrow. Tomorrow is a different day.
- Fall in love with a person, a place and a thing: I want this year to be full of love. I want to let myself love someone new, whether its a new relationship or just new friendships that let me grow. I want to travel and fall in love with a new city. And I want to fall in love with a new skill, hobby or activity. It is time to get back out into the world and stop just working all the time.
Seven smaller goals for the year:
- Do 30 mins yoga everyday, morning or evening, just to feel good
- Visit three new places in the world and remember the joy of discovering the world
- Read more even if its just on public transport and even if it is crime drama (just for the love of it :))
- Do regular exercise everyday to manage my moods. Culminating in the half marathon in September. I joined the running club in work and I need to go now 🙂
- Get more shadowing experience in my field because so far those experiences have been incredible and invaluable.
- Take up kickboxing cause I have said I wanted to for a long time
- Write and blog more obviously 🙂
At first impossible. Blinding and shaken. Bracing and faltering. Think mundane thoughts to calm the sickness. Make it all just slow down. Scrabbling for control. Hills and troughs of anger and grief and nothingness. Such deep nothingness, the world falling away but you are still standing. Inside is screaming but the outside doesn’t flinch. When the outside gives way to tears the inside is silenced and empty. They say that time is a healer but it moves all too slowly .
“Experience, that most brutal of teachers.But you learn, my God do you learn” – C.S. Lewis
Favourite childrens books are different the world over. In Ireland my favourite childrens stories were Postman Pat, Katie and the dinosaurs, Peter Rabbit, The Hungry Caterpillar and anything by Dr. Seuss or Roald Dahl. I treasured these books as a child, making countless babysitters read and re-read them well past bedtime. But across the pond there is a decidedly different set of bedtime favourites. I am too far past the age to casually read these now and still to young to be reading them to anyone else but I stumbled upon a quote from one of the more famous childrens stories that surprised me. It takes a lot for childrens literature to be surprisingly beautiful and profound but this little exert from The Velveteen Rabbit is quite possibly the best and brightest things I have read in a long time. Enjoy x
The Velveteen Rabbit by Margery Williams
“You become. It takes a long time. That’s why it doesn’t happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don’t matter at all, because once you are Real you can’t be ugly, except to people who don’t understand”