Though Unwanted, Unbidden, It Will Stir

The last week has me rather intrigued about several things. I fought a few times with my Mom, because she gets stressed about things. I find myself having to warn people I live with that despite their preconceptions of caffeine consumption, my insomnia is completely unrelated. For most people, I suppose the coffee I drink in excess would seem extreme, but in terms of what I’ve historically consumed, my habit, these days, is modest at most. However, despite my warnings, my lethargy and insomnia, which are both intermittent, and occur in varying extreme, always lead the people I live with to question my words. I am then eventually dared to stop drinking coffee and force myself to sleep. The next caffeineless week is usually followed by my waking up and going to bed at the same times every day for 3 days (only for about 4 hours a night, with interruptions of waking up every hour on the hour), followed by a day of my being so completely stressed out that elephant tranquilizers couldn’t put me out, and then I sleep for 18 hours a day for one or two days before we’re back to the same sleepless routine as before, only without coffee.
 
I HAVE AN OPPOSING REACTION TO STIMULANTS; THEY RELAX ME. SOME DEPRESSANTS MAKE ME HYPER. WHY, WHY, WHY DON’T PEOPLE BELIEVE THAT I KNOW MY OWN BODY BY NOW? Have I not proven medical professionals wrong about the status of my health more than twice in the last year, and more than FOUR times in serious situations? I know when I don’t feel right, I know what to expect when I do certain things to my body, and I know what the effects of caffeine are on it. Okay?? Besides which, I average MAYBE 2 cups of coffee a day. I had 5 yesterday, which is extreme compared to my coffee-drinking most of the time.
 
Regardless, I find that sometimes, no matter how certain people I know try to sound like flawless philosophers and philanthropists, they too have fatal flaws they won’t admit to. Namely, the concept of not caring abot anyone else’s stress but your own. I have been trying to get my primary living space organized enough to live in for quite sometime. In fact, we’re into the third month of making my bedroom more than a glorified storage room. I’ve spent almost 6 months now with all of my things packed away, stacked in corners, sleeping on foutons and blow-up mattresses, having no privacy and no sanctuary to be alone in. I was really beginning to feel claustrophobic. No matter my mood, if I came home and saw my bedroom, I would immediately feel imprisoned by the unbearable mess. And every single time I tried to remedy that claustrophobia, it became an issue where everyone else felt that the common rooms were more important. However, they had the privacy of their rooms to go to afterwards, and I didn’t. So I’ve got it at a manageable level right now. It’s still messy and disorganized, but at least it isn’t crushing my sanity.
 
Things are looking up, but I spend enough of my time concerning myself with how everyone else feels and how I can make everyone else happy, and what everyone else wants. Sometimes, it isn’t selfish to want to take care of yourself.
 
Rachel came by today. She’s the girl my Mom was helping before I moved in. She used to have my room. Her parents weren’t competent, and she ended up in a really bad, desperate way. Her life would have been short, I think, if Mom hadn’t saved her. She readily admits that my Mom saved her life. Anyhow, things have been hard for her lately. Until today she didnt really know me that well, but I’m a really open, accepting person. She’d called Mom twice, because she needed someone to talk to, and then she showed up at the door (only Mom was indisposed with Kenn at the time). So I dropped what I was doing and sat outside on the porch to let her just get things off her chest. That doesn’t necessarily mean adding anything, and I let her tell me whether or not she needed me to listen, or to dispense advice (I did both). She kept apologizing for ‘imposing’ on me. The thing is, I knew she needed someone. She needed to be heard. She needed to feel important and comforted and supported. I just told her that she was my friend, and there are few more important things in life than a friend in need. Anyhow, we ended up spending the following 5 hours together hanging out. I never know what to make of people’s surprise at my willingness to be supportive and friendly. She’s a wonderful, beautiful young woman, who has been about as down and out as one can get. I feel fortunate to have made a friend in her today. She has a strength and character I admire, and yet a true vulnerability that I understand. We’re both looking for the same thing in life, I think, which is strange. We’re both survivors, but at the same time, being a survivor has made both of us the target of being taken advantage of. We both want someone in our lives to love who will allow us occasions of vulnerability. I feel human again when I’m with someone I don’t have to wear emotional armor around. One cannot be expected to be the heroine all the time.
 
 
Speak
Inside me there was a broken heart
a sickness of unfailing dark
Oh and oh I played my part
I wanted to live again
but didn’t know where to start
But ’cause of you I felt it there
underneath the heavy grey
of sad days
I felt alive
 
‘Cause when you speak
I can breathe
when you’re listening
I remember how to feel
I am strong
like yesterday
No, I’m not weak
Not when you speak
 
Underneath my painted smile
barely hidden behind my eyes
I was dying little by little
Walking a path of riddles
A deep hollow I couldn’t fight
Even sober my grief didn’t make sense
This illogical madness in my head
I tried to make sense of it all
I did, you spoke
and I felt my defenses fall
 
‘Cause when you speak
I can breathe
when you’re listening
I remember how to feel
I am strong
like yesterday
No, I’m not weak
Not when you speak
 
Your eyes don’t lie
but you’re afraid of me
‘Cause I know
Your eyes don’t lie
but you’re afraid of me
‘Cause I know
 
‘Cause when you speak
I can breathe
when you’re listening
I remember how to feel
I am strong
like yesterday
No, I’m not weak
Not when you speak…
Kassondra Staschuk © 2008

♥Kдssi
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~ by Kд§$ị (ИovΔ) on 06/10/2008.

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