Words. What does anything matter anymore? My life is right where I have always wanted it to be. Financial security. Investment in a home. Comfort of having a home. Job security. Permanence, or at least the promise of permanence.
Everything I have ever striven for. Such a long way from the chronic lack of money, the period of homelessness, the revolving doors into and out of hospitals, the shifting from one city to another, one country to another, as if I could escape my own demons. I’ve been told that life is not about destinations, but more about journeys. Well, then, I seem to have arrived. Just where, I do not yet know.
Everything should seem so perfect now, and yet,... yes, and yet what?
I can’t do anything about my past. I can’t go back and have a childhood. But I can move on, plunge ahead regardless. Because that’s what mature, responsible adults do. Except... except that it feels empty, as if that deep void within will continue to grow and gnaw at my guts, until it has swallowed me whole... from the inside out.
I can’t do anything about the missing gaps of my life. I can’t change the mistrust, the suspicion, the dark hauntings within my own mind. I can’t change the fear of betrayal, the fear of abandonment, the deep deep fear of rejection. I can’t change the hate, the loathing, the anger. Everything I have learnt, as an adult, is all I have. So I guess I hold the blame for holding on to what I have.
Some time while in college, I learnt about imprints. Our imprints are shaped by our experiences with the world. Once imprinted, we become who we are. You cannot change an imprint once it has been set. But they try anyway. With medications, with therapy, with treatment plans and treatment goals. Eventually, they think they can remove the ghosts that live in my brain.
But I don’t think so.
Just because you draw yourself a map does not mean you will find out where you really are. Because sometimes being lost simply means being lost.