“I’m not God. I’m not all powerful. I can’t win in every situation.
But I’m a HUMAN, and I do have a choice.”
I’ve spent the good part of the last 2 years, trying to redeem myself and gather the pieces of what was once my life. The first time when I wrote post with that name, it was close to 2 years ago, one of the first posts I had on here. And now it’s 2 years later. So much has changed. So much hasn’t. The base of that first post was feeling like a ghost- feeling like I had opportunities, I had a choice, yet I couldn’t live the life I wanted. I was watching from the sides, broken, terrified that fighting for the life I want, I will lose the dream, I will lose my last hope, and that will be the end. When you barely have the will to get out of bed, life force, energy, hope, it’s one of the most important things. It’s not much of a life I’m living, hiding in bed while people actually experience things- but it’s all I have left. After having poured all energy, money and everything else I had into a project, just to end up not only losing the money, but having to gather myself and survive all sorts of bad situations, I don’t have it in me to make a single step towards my dream.
(2 years ago)
I’m a Ghost.
I don’t live, I exist, and I even do that at the bare minimum. For a while anyway.
My dreams have shrunk too. I don’t have it in me to dream big anymore. I just want a way out of the nightmare I somehow got myself into. I can’t make a step forward, because it will kill me, that I’m certain of. I don’t have it in me to get through disappointment anymore. I don’t have it in me to fight. I’m helpless, immobile, soulless. I feel like I’ve lost everything that constitutes me being human, but I hold on. I hold on for no other reason, than the fact I’ve done it for a long time. I’m weaker, more tired.
I can’t take a step forward. I can’t take half a step. Even a quarter.
So I break down what I do into the most ridiculous tiny pieces just so that I keep going. Even getting through those pieces takes forever. I take 2 hours to get ready for my day at my internship, and cry in my lunch break. I eat junk, watch endless TV, and stop giving a damn about everything. I don’t eat, or overeat. Getting out of bed is an issue. My last project for university is done over the span of 5 months, even though I could have been done in 1 month. Sometimes working on it for 15 min, takes me 2 days of torturing myself to get started. My past is filling my nights with nightmares, and it’s entirely too unsettling. I’ve spend a good amount of years avoiding dealing with things, being “content” with being miserable a lot of the time. My solution to bad things is to run. To just go somewhere else and reinvent myself, into someone I like. I perfect that and it works, for a while. But the ghosts in your closet always catch up with you. I am who I am. Putting a lifetime of change in between of being a helpless kid, and me today, it doesn’t make it go away. Strip away the changes, the people, and all the regular parts of my life, and it’s still there, underneath. It took for my life to break apart for me to see that.
I can’t run forever.
Though I would. If I hadn’t been sexually abused, and didn’t have to deal with the emotional breakdown that followed, I would have been very content to continue running.
Let’s fast forward to yesterday.
I’m in my ballet class and our teacher asks us who wants to be part of which dance on the concert. Our group is recreational group for adults, so we aren’t nearly ready, and the concert is in a month. Just the idea of performing makes my stomach in knots. I’ve been told for years that I can’t be a dancer, yet I somehow came back to it, at the worst time of my life. I’ve been told cabaret is “for whores only” yet we are doing jazz cabaret dance on that concert. I’m not in the shape I would like to be, nor mentally or physically prepared.
But I have made a lot of changes in my life, in the past years.
Facing the truth was the biggest one of them all, and I still struggle.
In January, I promised myself I would try to be more social this year. Over the span of these 3 months, I met more people than I did in the past year. And to be honest, I may not stay friends with all of them, but meeting them was fun. I told myself I would finally have more money, and I started earning a regular wage- online. When I got tired of panicking in the middle of choreography, because I can’t remember it, because I can’t look at myself in the mirror, or for another reason altogether, I stopped, watched the video of our dance and broke down the choreography. And made notes. And started learning. When I decided to meet more people, I stopped waiting, and started attending some events- terrified, at first, but I did it anyway.
My mantra was the idea that if it goes bad, I never have to see those people again.
After 2 years of digging in my past I finally have some perspective. I finally have some strength back. Enough strength to realize that the reason I can look at the life I want, but I can’t touch, is because I’m paralyzed. Because of the fall I’ve taken, because of the rape, the PTSD, the depression, and my total lack of will to continue fighting, I can’t take action. Life is right in front of me, and I let it flow over me like water. I’m good at doing what I have to, and tend to refer to things as “having happened to me”, as if I had not taking any part in choosing them. When I get tired, I finally take action, and start making things happen, rather than randomly waiting for them to.
And still, it comes rather as a surprise to me too, when our dance teacher asks who is going to participate in which dance, and I say I will.
I’m doing them all, every single dance that my group is doing. Two choreography, cabaret and modern jazz, and adagio.
In front of a lot of people. In a month. I have a whole lot more to learn, and 1 month to do it all. This is far from ideal. This performance could be really great or awful, and it’s still equally important.
But the moment the words come out of my mouth, the moment I say I want to do all dances, I find myself grinning like an idiot.
I’m not a ghost anymore. My confidence has taken a huge hit these past years, and I am nowhere near who I used to be. I’m not a god, I’m not all powerful, and I can’t do it all. I can’t guarantee that I won’t be horrible at those dances. But I’m going to do all I can to be good, within reasonable bounds of course. It doesn’t always come easy. I still have mornings when I have nightmares and wake up crying. In fact, I had one yesterday. I still have days when I am rendered useless and unable to work because of all going through my head. But I’m getting better.
I’m not God. I’m not all powerful. I can’t win in every situation.
But I’m human, and I do have a choice. And I chose to live this time around. Or try to, anyway.