irresolution
2003-10-05
"No one of us can help the things life has done to us. They're done before you realise it, and once they're done, they make you do other things until at last everything comes between you and what you'd like to be, and you've lost your true self forever." - Eugene O'Neill 'Long Day's Journey into Night'
Dark, silent night: echoing nothing. Yet what is it that knows me better than these hours of stillness? What else could? I still write as though it is for someone other than myself. But who, who am I writing to? Into the night these words always go, like a pack of hunting dogs hoping to bring home another piece of myself, another chunk of my understanding of the world. More quarry brought home to please the hunter.Nights like these, I am truly alone. That is why I often substitute sleep or sweet distraction for the keyboard or the pen. For when I sit here, I become the hunter, doomed by instinct to chase myself down until I am cornered and devoured. There is nothing more terrifying than this sensation: the dimming of the world; the single, disconnected being that I have become, that I have always been. It is during these moments that I am that solitary little girl again, sitting by herself at school, too afraid and uncomfortable to befriend others; to live outside her imagination. Damn that girl and her mark upon me! Damn that girl and her haunting memory.
This year has been good to me. Friends have dominated it from every angle. Good friends. Close friends. Old friends. New friends. Acquaintances. Enigmatic strangers. I have drawn friends from all places, and wrapped them around me like a patchwork quilt. Photo albums have filled with still-life snapshots of friendship and adventure. Memories fond and true have enriched my mind. And yet, little of that has made an impact on this part of my mind that decides to speak tonight, come forth like some incensed spirit in an Ouija ritual.
What, spirit, brings you here? Why have you not found peace? You’re nothing but a buried thing, a stubborn, buried thing. Yet, I cannot deny the strength of your presence, can I? What do you want to say?
Things are not as they should be. Things are incomplete, unresolved. You are the only one who can change it.
What do you mean? I have made a good life for myself. I am moving forward, moving onwards. I have friends. I have progress. I have achievement.
These things, you have, yes. But what of love? What of true companionship? What of feeling warmed by those around you? You are merely posing. These friends, these victories, they are postures, they are acts to appease your ever-critical mind. But they are not sustaining. They are leaving you cold. You are merely playing the roles. An outside observer might see you as loving. But you cannot fool me. You cannot fool your own mind.
That is not true! I love my friends. I love my family. I love my pet dog Willow, even now that she is gone. I love many things, and they do bring warmth.
You love your family, yes. But your friends? Significant others? You do not love anyone beyond the hearth. You do not allow yourself to. You are afraid. You are beleaguered by your shyness, your inhibition. You are stifled by your fear. You are too afraid to share yourself, too enamoured of the way things are, overwhelmed by the prospect of change. It is the same with every other aspect of your life. You are afraid of finishing university. You are afraid of ending your studies and joining the workforce. You are afraid of responsibilities and commitments. You are afraid of losing yourself. But have you ever thought that this path is slowly getting you lost, anyway? Have you ever thought that…
What do these words achieve? I know these things. I know them everyday. I am paralysed by that knowledge, poisoned by its endless bite. But to change, to confront beasts far beyond my skill to fight, seems a futile and premature hope. I have taken this journey slowly and steadily. I have met challenges and fears when I have felt capable of overcoming them. Let me not forget that I am stronger now than I ever have been. I am worthy of the title of adult in many spheres of my life, when just two years ago, I was but a fearful child.
But relationships…These are uniquely terrifying things; confusing and painful things. I do not know if I am ready to seek them. I do not know if I am built to maintain them. I do not know how much of myself I must give, or how to trust my judgement. Declan was a mistake for me. He was my father, only charming instead of brooding. Declan was too much the lover of liquor. He was too much the charismatic, ego-driven danger; a wisp of smoke I could not hold. He could never understand me the way I need to be understood, no matter what he may have thought. He could never get through to me; and I never would have allowed him to if he tried.
After Declan, I have been more afraid to seek relationships than ever before, more afraid because Declan exposed my naivete and my doubt, and in many ways, he exploited and manipulated it. His disarming charm belied the truth of my intuitions; spoke soothingly to me when I should have heard sirens. His ability to ensnare my doubts and turn them into personal defects truly shook me. I could not trust myself, or him, whenever he came near. I did not know myself when he came near. I only knew confusion and frustration at my own lack of resolve. Declan was my sinking ship.
But the night has grown older, and I am tired of words. I am tired of this hunt, of this haunting. Perhaps in the morning ‘things will be clearer’. Perhaps in the morning this spectre of my mind will have returned to the ether and I will be in a better mood to ponder, to seek an optimistic path.
And so I end on this uncertain note…
Things are not as they should be. Things are incomplete, unresolved.
Such is life.
