3.9
April 13, 2015

I Want to Hide from the World Today.

your new twin sized bed

The morning’s misty clouds reach out to kiss my cheeks, but I resist their sweet embrace with a bratty snarl, turning towards the hurricane brewing inside my heart instead.

I want to crawl back under the covers and create a cave-like retreat from the world. I wish to burrow so far under the thickest, softest blankets and dream up my own world, where starry nebulae and silky puddles of stardust predominate.

Can’t I just step into the gauzy slippers of a never-ending fantasy?

Can’t I be consumed by strawberry flavored swirls of raw, pure-spun imagination?

Today, the world feels too harsh, and I, too sensitive.

I want to hide.

From life. From myself. From my feelings. From my duties. From my all-consuming to-do list. From every person I might encounter. From everything that could hypothetically happen or not happen.

Today, I don’t feel strong enough to engage in that big, bad world out there.

Today, I seem to be strung from tiny glass gossamer beads. I feel entirely see-through and thoroughly raw.

I fear that the slightest rude remark could rip me wide open, sending my heart’s contents spilling out onto the streets. I fear that simply looking into someone’s eyes could slay me, ending it all right there, a sudden death to this incredibly strange day.

My sensitivity is turned up to high heat, the hot blue flames raging with combustible emotional intensity that I’m not quite sure I can contain.

Every light is a thousand shades too bright. Every sound is amped up to maximum volume. Every feeling rattles in my stomach, clanking together so fiercely that it nauseates my overwhelmed soul.

I weep streams of stringy seaweed grief because on these gossamer days, I feel so small and vulnerable.

I fear I cannot inhabit life without falling apart.

So fall apart I do.

I wrap my arms around myself, rest my chin on my right shoulder and squeeze so tight. Salty tears come, splashing upon the shores of my gauzy, whisper-thin cheeks.

They rinse me, bringing crystalline clarity.

I catch a glimpse of this part of myself that is deeply ashamed of who I am. Of my emotionality. Of my sensitivity. Of my empathy.

This part is bitchy and impatient—she’s a compulsive control freak who cares mostly about getting things done. Rolling her eyes, she finds it just so annoying that I have to take extra-special care of myself sometimes.

And, it is tough, I don’t always know how to handle the spider web-like threads of my sensitive nature.

But, I don’t need answers, because my sensitivity isn’t a problem.

I need to sit with myself and become a proud puddle of whispering tears, a swirling ocean of foamy empathic energy, a fierce breeze of spinning emotional images.

I need to feel; I am made to feel.

So feel I do.

Feeling breathes life into me, births new galaxies inside my soul and inspires my heart to break open again and again.

I am renewed.

I take my hand softly and when I’m ready, I push my feet deeply into the ground, and let them grow dark red roots that reach all the way to the center of the earth.

I ground myself gently, but firmly as hell.

The day will sprout its own green leaves from here.

And, I will head straight into these fragile 24 hours. It may be a struggle. I may cry, hurt, break or bleed a little.

But, I will take that risk because I wish to be fully alive. I wish to taste all this life has to offer. No matter how raw, no matter how delicate or sensitive or uncomfortable.

I want it all.

I can handle it all.

I take my hand, give one last supportive squeeze, and dip my trembling toes in the buzzing aquamarine waters of life.

I shiver, but I smile, too.

The water sparkles.

Off I go; the electric current of life carries me now.

 

Relephant:

When Gratitude Eludes you, Try this.

~

Author: Cindy A. Jones

Editor: Travis May

Photo: Flickr/ Allie Holzman

~

Facebook is in talks with major corporate media about pulling their content into FB, leaving other sites to wither or pay up if we want to connect with you, our readers. Want to stay connected before the curtain drops? Get our curated, quality newsletters below!

 

Read 4 Comments and Reply
X

Read 4 comments and reply

Top Contributors Latest

Sarah Harvey  |  Contribution: 83,085