Saturday, October 22, 2016

Waves

It comes in waves. It always comes in waves. 

When you're born, you float on the salt water as you enter the stream that, as the years go by, will lead into the saltwater body that takes up about 67% of the earth. You learn that this is the ocean, and the ocean is full of creatures that you cannot see lurking underneath you; you are utterly ignorant of what you are up against, for you've yet to experience the turbulence of the big, wide ocean. 

At first, you're in awe––upon the kiss of the horizon, bursts of golden heaven and soft rose petals dance into the slumber of night––and nothing could possibly be more beautiful than the thump against your chest fluttering up to your mind.


The sunset came to its close to warn the world of the coming storm.

Then the first storm hits.
You’ll float on the water, but before you know it, the current sucks you in and the waves crush the air in your lungs, drowning you, and you’re gasping for just a molecule of oxygen, your arms flailing around underwater and your neck craning to at least get your nose up for just one breath. You think you’re going to die. You don’t have enough oxygen in your blood so your body suffocates, and soon enough, you can’t move. 

Sometimes the storm lasts for days, weeks, months, even years. When the waters finally calm, you're cold, frightened, shivering––weak. The sunlight touches your skin, and you're overwhelmed by the goodness but don't want to believe that it's real because the current can pull you under all over again at any moment. The ocean stretches for miles beyond you, so far that you can’t see; the ocean endlessly falls into depths which you cannot reach, and you’re afraid because you can’t see or feel when the next storm will come. 

But you keep floating, because something––love––is carrying you without you knowing it. And eventually, you can swim on your own. You are breathing. Feel the movement of your chest going up and down, the exchange of carbon dioxide and oxygen flowing through you, even if your once fluttering heart aches from the burning salt water––you are breathing. 

It comes in waves––the hurt, the healing, the love––all in waves. 

It's easy to tell you not to be afraid. But I'm telling you that it's okay to be afraid of what you can't see. That's why so many of us have anxiety issues about the future––we can't see it, and there's way for us to predict it. Although I claim I'm "psychic" because I get these vibes and feelings about certain people, but I'm not always right, of course. But I have to trust that, no matter how hopeless and dark things seem to be, everything will happen the way it's supposed to happen. 

People suck, let's be real. People are what cause the storms in our lives, so I guess I'm just trying as best as I can to not be the one that causes a storm for someone else. Granted, we can't always do that because we're imperfect human beings. Anyway, now I'm just babbling on and on and I'm tired of hearing my voice in my head as I write this. 

Love, 

Alena Daaé





Wednesday, October 12, 2016

You Just Feel Kind of Crappy

So you're having a crappy week. That's normal, and you're going to have a lot more of them, trust me.
That doesn't mean you should give up forever. Maybe just temporarily.

That's right. Just give into that longing to just lay down and blast music so loud you can't even hear yourself think; run until you can't feel yourself breathe; punch something so hard your knuckles bleed (okay maybe not that). Just do something to let out whatever's making you feel like you wanna give up.

Just don't go on self-destruct mode. It is probably the most dangerous mode any person can go into because you then have complete disregard for your well-being, and this affects the people around you. When that self-destruct button is on, that stuff that's bugging you inside will eat you alive. And you will explode, and there will be casualties.

You go into self-destruct mode when you try to fix everything on your own, when you try to carry all these burdens on your back and your back alone, either because you don't want to burden anyone with your baggage or because you're too ashamed to tell anyone how fucked up you really are. You may not even realize that you're doing this. You may not even realize that you're trying to avoid every single needle causing you pain. That's normal, too, because our self-conscious tends to try about protect ourselves from pain, especially if you've experienced trauma. But you need to recognize what you're doing. You need to stop and think, and you need to talk to someone. You need to take care of yourself.

That also means you can have fun. Go hang out with your friends. If you've been having issues drinking too much, partying too much, doing drugs too often, you don't have to do any of those things to have fun with your friends. If they're really your friends, they'll respect your choice and would love to go out to dinner or lunch or bowling or just drive around and see what you find. There's adventure waiting in the most unexpected places; you can't expect the adventures to find you, you have to find them. Life isn't going to just happen, you've got to make it happen.

So how are you really feeling?

Close your eyes. Picture your room.
The clothes inside your drawers are wrinkled and scattered because you keep scrambling for that favorite t-shirt or sweater or you were just too lazy to fold your laundry the other day. Your textbooks and notes are piled on your desk, which you leave there to remind you that you still have boat-loads homework to finish. Perhaps there's a few things on the floor that you just can't bother to pick up. Your trash bin is overflowing with junk you can't even name because it's turned a weird, freak-of-nature color.
Your room's a mess, so let's be real: you are a fucking mess. But you aren't alone in that mess.

The point is, it's okay to feel crappy. It's okay to feel like your life is way out of control and you're just a mess that you can't seem to organize. It's all cool, just organize a little bit at a time. Fold the clothes on one day, or even in two days. Tackle even just a little bit of that homework with someone else so you can finally store the books on a shelf on another day. Start small, and eventually, your room will be clean.
Yes, it will get messy again, and the process will start all over, but at least you'll know for a period of time it'll be okay, and you're not alone.

Alright, now it's time for me to listen to my own advice.

Love,

Alena


P.S. I've posted some of my poetry on the main site. I think I posted my instagram, too. But here are the links.
poetry: http://belleclairdelunepoetry.tumblr.com
instagram: belleclairdelune