where is the light?
Driving into the city for my first appointment with my career counselor today, I felt like I was driving to my own funeral. Not because I'm afraid that I won't get a job. Because I'm afraid that I will. I no longer have the gift of time that was bestowed upon me when I was laid off. Time to rest. Time to organize. Time with my kids. Time to discover what I want to do, and time to find the job that best fits my life.
I was eleven when my Father died. I didn't cry at his funeral. I remember feeling like I needed to hold up everyone else around me who was falling apart. I remember feeling like I needed to take care of my Mom and my sister now. I remember feeling very rational about the whole thing. I remember the pastor asking me if I knew where my Father was, and thinking to myself "What are you, crazy? He's right over there in that coffin.", although I don't remember using those exact words. I also don't remember feeling the need to cry.
I have a very hard time letting myself be completely vulnerable. Even when I lean on friends, I always feel like I need to be sure that they know I am ok. Even though I've never felt burdened by being there for someone, I never want to be a burden to anyone. I've always felt that simply who I am, may be overwhelming to most people. I am the type of person who will tell you my life story within five minutes of meeting you, but I hold part of myself inside. I could count on one hand, the number of people in my lifetime that have seen that part of me.
Just for a moment, I want to not be strong. I want to not ensure everyone else around me is ok. Just for a moment, I want to be held. I need to cry.
Storm, by Lifehouse
how long have I
been in this storm
so overwhelmed by the ocean's shapeless form
water's getting harder to tread
with these waves crashing over my head
if I could just see you
everything will be alright
if I'd see you
the storminess will turn to light
and I will walk on water
and you will catch me if I fall
and I will get lost into your eyes
and everything will be alright
and everything will be alright
I know you didn't bring me out here to drown
so why am I 10 feet under and upside down
barely surviving has become my purpose
cause I'm so used to living underneath the surface
if I could just see you
everything will be alright
if I see you
the storminess will turn to light
and I will walk on water
and you will catch me if I fall
and I will get lost into your eyes
and everything will be alright
and I will walk on water
you will catch me if I fall
and I will get lost into your eyes
and everything will be alright
I know everything is alright
everything's alright
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
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6 comments:
I wish I could think of profound to say, but just know that I believe in you. Your family believes in you. And I really really believe everything will work out! Big hugs, my friend.
(((Hugs))) hon. It is hard not to be the strong one all the time. Know that you are strong but that you can rely on your family and friends in the tough times. I am rooting for you.
Can we just cross post this over at my blog because, um...yeah.
Wish I lived closer so we could sneak off together and cry.
Kari, you may not feel like the "true you" is "known" to others, but I knew - as time passed and I got to know you through Kir and then through your blog - that you are such a special being.
I don't know where the light is either. But I do know that the dark can only last for so long. And I'm holding on - with you - for just a little glimpse of what's on the other side.
It's there. For both of us.
I've always been that way too. In some ways, I'm still doing that. I am quick to say, oh I'm okay. Am I really, no. But I say it and I act it.
But you have to find your person who will let you be the basket case for a bit. All of us need that every now and then.
Tons of hugs sweetheart.
Oh I so wish I could help. Maybe a different kind of counselor would be helpful... Or maybe a friend who would just listen. Like in person I mean.
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