Without this contrast I don’t know if I’d know me this intimately.
If I were rich, I’d be depressed.
The kind of depression that gives you full attention to your depression. No longer scratching the couch cushions, knees on the hard floor praying to Jesus this billionth time for help like a runaway Catholic girl. All my same problems would be there, that money can’t remove. And if I were rich it would give me more time, more attention, to my problems. Would my extremism of attention not be diverted, causing to inflame the original problem even more so?
But I still want to be rich.
If I were peaceful, I’d be bored.
The kind of bored that makes you question if you are even alive. Not like I wouldn’t strive for a collection of centered moments in which I could breathe, feeling comfortably still. But if I were peaceful would this falling apart be necessary? Would I even notice the agony but how it’s moving me, though I grip the sides of the lawn, fingernails too full of dirt to gain traction. Uprooting my dream of tranquility – my breather, from a frenzy of fanaticism. I am my own wind up, spin out, yoyo syndrome.
But I still want to be peaceful.
If I were centered, I couldn’t be whole.
I wonder if I’d miss my days of confused persona where my vulnerability wins and I land in the softest spot of my bed between the pillows, holding on to just about everything my arms can hold. I don’t want a hug, but I want to be held so tightly that I don’t feel this. My arms are limp, my heart is pounding, dizzy from hypotheticals too real to speak. I don’t want a hug, for that would contain it all too close to feeling it all.
But I still want to be centered.
If I were positive, I’d be horrified.
Mostly at my behavior in beliefs that I couldn’t change no matter how much trauma weaseled its way through. My judgment of projection couldn’t understand the alarm sounding off in the psyche of awareness, even if they’re all trial runs. If I were looking for good outcomes would I miss all the booby traps – jumping from alligator to alligator through the Atari swamps, making it, only to be eaten by mosquitos? Why would I leave myself too open to life happenings, chancing my survivalist nature.
But I still want to be positive.
If I were calm and trusting, the world would surely fall apart.
The recycling robo-truck picking up within seven seconds of my husband/kid wheeling the big blue container to the roadside makes me cringe, control, scream my head off inside my plastered cranial walls. I can’t take the possibility of what would happen if…, even though it’s all within reasonable control. I want to wash my hands of the sinful words: ‘faithful divine timing’ and ‘everything happening how it needs to’. I want to recycle this ticking clock, while we’re at it, replaying time now that I know what I know. Would I cringe? Would I trust?
But I still want to be calm.
If I were different, everything couldn’t exist.
So, maybe I just accept myself, as is.
At least, this time.
Happy V Day,
Psychic Medium, Spirit Guide, & Writer
Bio: I am a seafull of mountains always seeking the truth, a mysti-called dragon, a psychic phenomena(l) goddess who births stars and makes wishes on their dust. I just love being me. And you being you.
I live in remote pristine Alaska and also the regenerative healing waters of Florida. Discovering how life is meant to be loved. My husband and two children are my entire universe in which we frolic about, living out this dream. Live on purpose, I say!