Beautifully Broken Mind

We do not exist.

In the scope of space time our human experience is so fast it does not register as an actual event.

We are small.

Sometimes by the ocean, in the mountains, we feel it.  We feel it at night staring into to the beautifully terrifying vastness of the universe from our backyard.

We are a quick pulse of energy in the universe.

My spiritual journey has been one with many twists and turns.   I was raised by very religious people.  A desire to have a relationship with the divine feels born in me.

What I understand of my brief experience in the universe has become my divine.

I share this moment of space time with all of the other energies that surround me, authentically, with love and acceptance.

I could call this any number of things but I chose spiritual.  Believing that the energy I use to serve and share with the world is important, relies on faith.  It is people of faith who speak of purpose, vision, and hope.

I have yet to make it through an entire day living by my spiritual principles.   I am not sure that it is even possible.  My ability to regulate my emotions has been a lifelong struggle.  Not being in control when you body decides it wants to ugly cry for an hour, is embarrassing and inconvenient.  Not knowing when your body is going to lash out and hurt people, or shut them down, or make them feel weak and small, that is a very heavy burden.  When I speak to people about the hard work of mental health it is hard to explain all that goes into harnessing the viper in my brain.  My brain is tells me lies and distorts my reality.  My brain tells me that pain and anguish in the person who I have never met is my fault.   “Why are you blaming me, it is not fair.”  It will turn complete strangers into enemies. “Who are you to judge me, what have I ever done to you?”  Every person, every set of eyes is a new rabbit hole of threat assessment, every unexpected noise almost certain danger.   Even when I feel good, my brain is watching to see if it makes other people uncomfortable.   It is exhausting.  It breaks my heart to know how many other people are fighting this battle, and have no idea that they are even at war.  The worst part about mental illness is it’s like trying to see your own eye color without a mirror.  There are somethings that are hard to observe with the tool being used to observe it.

I try to know and accept my brain as much as I can.   I listen to my fear and the pain, and try to provide a safe place for them to rest.  I nurture my dreams.  I encourage them to grow and adapt, I let them make mistakes.  I take all of the pieces, humour, compassion and try to accept it all for what is it.  I sit here looking at the world through a kaleidoscope, fragments of sanity.  The pieces that are so painstaking put together show me a world of faith, with all of its hope vision and purpose.  It is so beautiful.  I can not see it all the time, but when I do it is radiant.

 

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