Being excellent at things that come easy is boring. Show me something brave.

So I don't want to write about the dream. These feelings towards specific individuals are too raw and I don't know how to explain them. I proved myself to be extremely apathetic and selfish towards someone that I know I care a lot about, but my recent actions would make people think otherwise. I was played by someone who I know to be a player. In my dream it was very upsetting to me. In real life I expect it, but for some reason my subconscious doesn't think so. My friends had planned this big outing for me and I took my time getting ready because I was too depressed. I feel like I spend so much time dwelling on inconsequential things that I'm missing out. I think way too much. It's been so easy for me to point out my flaws previously and move on. Why can I not do it now? Maybe I'm still trying to prove to myself that I am perfect. That there's no reason for anyone to leave, just their own stupidity...

I'm beggin', beggin' you.

Sometimes I have these moments of clarity where I step outside of myself and see everything as it truly is. 

I have been selfish. I have been, selfish. Incredibly. Undeniably. Irreversibly. It's manifested itself in all of my relationships. Ones that I've had forever. Ones that I've recently started. Ones that have already come and gone.* I want people to see me a certain way so I focus on myself and what makes me feel good. This juncture** in my life has a very distinct feeling. Almost like everything I've ever wanted is not so black and white. 

I cried (alone) today for the first time in a long time. I don't cry in front of people often so it's a little strange that I've done that more than actually cry alone. Anyways... I digress. (Yes, this journal will be stream of consciousness. Get over it.) There is a secret that I try to keep (quite unsuccessfully) hidden from myself. It creeps up in these moments and I want to find some way to tear it out of my body. (No, I do not try literally.) I am scared, terrified in fact, of being abandoned. When it happens, I shrink up into this little ball of emotion and try to avoid feeling weak. Weakness has become unacceptable. Like in the footnote, I focus my attention on things/people/situations so I can pretend I wasn't completely devastated by someone else's actions. I tell myself that I am independent. I tell myself I am perfect the way I am and if anyone has a problem with it they can go fuck themselves. And then I explode because I don't know how to properly place my emotions. Invariably this all leads back the secret. The secret that I only know half of... there is something wrong with me. There must be. There must be something in me that makes people become apathetic. Something that makes them not even think about me when they're running off with a man. Something that screams I am not exciting or enticing. Something that makes them become completely numb to my desires. Typically after a major betrayal I fight for attention. I work to prove to myself that it really is the other person's loss. I fucking hate this cycle. I hate that I am chained to this emotion. I want to get the fuck over it. Seriously. It was almost 10 years ago and I am tired of carrying this baggage. Every time I come back to this place I am disgusted that I'm back here again. I always tell myself, never again! It's easier (and less painful) to point out other people's destructive patterns. I've thought about my actions over the past year. I'm embarrassed. I'm disappointed in myself. For the sake of my emotional protection I have done some pretty shady things. I know that I want to be honest and selfless. I know that I want to be giving and thoughtful. I'm on the verge of forgetting how to act that way. What's the point if I will always be betrayed? Why keep my word if everyone else's is shit? Why make healthy emotional decisions if I only get looked over anyways? I feel invisible already, right? And even now I can't come up with good reasons. I'm getting to a point where I no longer need people to prove loyalty, I will just expect them to hurt me. Everyone. No exceptions. But I loathe that I think I'm such a victim. 

And I do feel invisible. I can be logical about it and give myself pep talks but they make me feel weak. I think this job makes me so depressed because it's really easy to become invisible. Just a cog that doesn't need to use any brain space. Say the same things. Give the same resolutions. Use the same exact words. The funny thing about feeling invisible is that I'm not an attention whore. I don't need all eyes on me. I think I just want someone to prove to me that there isn't something wrong with me. That my mom left because she was really selfish and couldn't even think about her own kids before skipping town. The fact that she didn't think of us more than "I've raised them this far, you can do the rest" is burned so deep in me that I want someone to prove to me that there is value to be found. Had she walked out when I was small I really could say she was a deadbeat parent. She got to know me and it wasn't enough. Again, I hate this. I fucking hate that I think these things.

There is no resolution. No one can heal me, not even myself evidently. What I need to do is learn to recognize symptoms (I've been so good at it with every other aspect of my life) and just know that I will always feel this way. I should be hopeful about it. Use it towards a greater good. But for just right now, it's really really shitty. 

*I've notice that I like to list things and generally it's in groups of three. Just a pattern that I've noticed. 

**(I wish that I could add footnotes to online journals. Man do I miss school.) I would like to point out another pattern in my life: Whenever I come to life defining parts of my journey, there is always a figure that is unattainable because of their mysteriousness. Or their interest in other things (if it's a person). I become almost obsessed with figuring this thing/person out and when it comes to no avail... as it always does... I'm always brought back here. This humbling, startling place of introspection. 

Humor is important, humor me.

*(I’m sitting on a couch wearing plaid boxers and a velvet revolver shirt that is obviously not mine.) I think your neighbors think I’m a slut because I always leave your house wearing the same thing I wore the night before. Today, I’m going to leave wearing this… (indicating the aforementioned outfit).

 

A few hours later I’m wearing the same thing and carrying a grocery bag in each hand. One filled with clothes, the other with food. I’m barefooted and about to walk out the door. We’re walking out together and he motions to the door, “after you, homeless prostitute”.

 

*She: k so this guy i used to work with who had a major crush on me just imed me saying,"hi little school girl". i feel like he wants to spank me.

 

Me: he probably does, you should let him and see what happens

 

She: no he's shapeless & weird… like a germ.

No one laughs at God in a hospital, no one laughs at God in a war.

When Aaron and I first broke up, it took me weeks before I would listen to music. Months before I could talk about it. It was so much a part of our relationship that whenever I heard a song, I would analyze it, debating whether or not it was good. Did the chorus fit the melody? Were the lyrics trite and if so, did the musicality make up for it? Who were the songwriter’s influences and was it anything original? All of these questions led back to the person that taught me so much about a part of the world I was unfamiliar with just years before. His influence in my life reached so much deeper than music, but it was the audible manifestation of all my pain. Even now some artists make me ache in ways that will never fully heal. 

Most people have been through gut-wrenching break-ups. The kind that make you do things you would’ve never imagined, as a sane person, you could do. You lie on the floor of your bedroom watching the ceiling fan spin and you question every day spent together. You wonder what could have been done differently. You wonder if you made a mistake in the first place. (That’s what I did at least. I’m guessing people have different reactions to things, but you understand the sentiment.) When relationships end it’s like someone dies. The harsh reality of something existing hangs in the air, but it’s no longer there. You can’t bring it back. It’s forever changed. 

Lately I’ve been feeling the aches of a metaphysical break-up. It’s been a little more subtle than a romantic one, but there nonetheless. Growing up I spent a lot of time in church. I was saved by the age of four, was baptized by my dad at ten and in Bible College at eighteen. I was on fire for Christ. I wanted to save the world. My passion for the widowed, orphaned and poor drove me to West Virginia. My love for the Word led me to Bible studies and summer camps. As weird as it may sound to some people, I was in love with God. So much of who I am comes from this. My compassion and understanding, my desire for justice and reform, my sense of morality and honesty stem from Five Day Clubs and church retreats. 

In college I studied the Bible and philosophy (at the Bible College). Hermeneutics of the Good Book and clean Christian living* were a part of my every day life. What happened in those two years forever changed my relationship with God and religion as a whole. Mainly, I discovered talents and desires that were stifled previously. (Mostly by me but by my environment as well.) This discovery led to my interest in art history and aesthetics. I believe the most profound change occurred with the introduction of the problem of evil. Even today I am haunted by this riddle that’s deeply rooted in logic and semantics. Essentially it states that if God is good, all-knowing and all-powerful then evil cannot exist in the world. It does and therefore God cannot exist. The Christian reaction to this problem is that we are not God and couldn’t possibly know the reasons for which God does things. Some would say that this is the best possible world we could live in, a world where we can choose between good and evil. It makes our love for God that much more meaningful because it was a choice. I understand the Biblical and theological foundations of this answer, but I am not satisfied with it. 

I can imagine a better world. One where we choose good regardless of the options given, one where God does not need an opposite. If God created everything then there can’t be anywhere God does not exist (a common definition of evil). I’m told this is where faith takes shape. For me, it’s a deal-breaker. The absurdity that my God (the one the I grew up with, had a relationship with and trusted beyond intellect) would allow man to disrupt His perfect creation was so far outside what I knew of Him, I felt like I never knew Him in the first place. The disappointment and pain that I’ve felt over this can be likened to finding out a lover has lied not only about what he does for a living, but doesn’t care about the things he said he did so many years ago. I feel cheated. If evil is part of his divine plan, then what am I doing? Why do I feel immense empathy for people I’ve never met? Why would I travel to Africa to help people grow food, if I’m just picking up the pieces of a plan that God put into motion in the first place? It doesn’t make sense. I can’t just swallow it and trust that what’s been taught to me is still valid, but just different than I thought. I didn’t subscribe to this God. I’m left feeling isolated. I’ve tried praying but everyday it feels more like I’m just talking to the walls. I’ve tried reading the Bible but the verses seem either too harsh or too saccharine. Now I can’t even open it up or walk into a church without feeling weighed down. As with many breakups I feel like an idiot. I should have thought this through earlier, maybe worked it out so there could have been a compromise. The person I’ve become and the God I thought I knew are turning out to be different. It’s just not working out. 

With religion day-to-day life becomes easier. (In some regards it is harder, I know.) When I woke up in the morning I felt loved and accepted. Whenever I had to make a life decision I relied on the knowledge that God had a plan for me and would guide my steps regardless of the mistakes I made. Now, I’m left up to my own devices. The similarities between this break up and the ones I’ve experienced before are surprising. The major difference is that religion is a lifestyle. The basis of who you are is dependent on what you believe. Now I feel like I’m 16 again deciding what clubs to join and who I want to be. I guess I have to find a way to love myself and make decisions that will please me. I have to learn how to be self-dependent. The world is a lot scarier when you face it alone. **

*This is definitely a subjective idea. Most people that know me really well know that clean is far from the truth. 

**And yes, I realize I am not entirely alone. I have people who love and support me (and I them, seriously, I love you guys) I mainly mean alone in my headspace. 

*** I’m starting an online journal again. I promise I’m not this negatively intense all the time. Lemme know if you want the info. 

In my head there's a greyhound station.

Where I send my thoughts to far off destinations
So they may have a chance of finding a place 
where they're far more suited than here

The road is slick and black. I turn my lights off and smile as the darkness wraps itself around my car. The comfort of the road floods over me as I click the lights back on. It’s cliché in the most cliché way possible. The world makes sense when I’m roaming. With my bags packed or boxes crammed into my backseat or just a contacts case and a toothbrush, I breathe in the midnight air, exhilarated. 

I’ve traveled great distances in search of something raw and tangible, something to quench the curiosity of my unquiet mind. In this search, loves were lost and found. Reactions to emotions were carefully chosen and planned. Realizations that there was nothing I could do to change my current course so I should cut my losses and move on were painfully exposed. This search is continual, ever changing and I’m starting to get restless again. 

Tonight music floats in this settled space as memories drift through my mind. That time I was a painter. The remnants of my not quite dry canvases are still all over the upholstery. That time I was a passionate lover and I expressed a love I never thought myself capable of showing. When I discovered the breadth of my desires and fears, sitting on the roof smoking, writing and singing at the top of my lungs. The conversations, of varying importance, with people I may or may not know anymore. All those riding partners I had to concerts, to family, to school, to nowhere (whether with me physically or on the phone). The gallons spent on friends and men. Those nights I just got in my car and drove because nothing else would satisfy me at one in the morning. That feeling that I own my destiny and the adventures ahead would be so much more beautiful than the ones before. 

This action toward an undefined place is what I know best. With all my thinking, analyzing and logical pursuits of what everything means, I find the most gratifying feeling in that of the undiscovered. The unexperienced. The unknown. I make decisions quickly and follow through because I want to be a woman of my word. I move 12 hours away to a city I’ve only known through short summer stays and Christmases. I go visit a boy that I barely know to see what he has to offer. I explore cities when I’ve told no one where I’ve gone because I’m experiencing familiar places, with a new love. These decisions were rash, but the road was open and mine. 

Tonight I’m traveling 15 minutes to a house that I once considered my home. I could drive the whole way there with my lights off. The steep drop of the road is familiar. I sometimes imagine this is what flying must feel like, free and reckless. I’ve been haunted by this route. I’ve been aching for a past that I no longer have any claim to. It’s not so much the exact details that I would like back, just the feelings. I’m yearning for something I can’t quite figure out. I was settled before. Content in my academic pursuits and the comfortable companionship of a lover/friend. Now that both are over, I second-guess myself. I go to a job that is mundane in the worst way possible. On a daily basis I take care of only myself. When I have free time I pay bills and do laundry. (This is the part where my dad would pipe-up and say… Welcome to being an adult!) Someone recently mentioned this feeling of…. apathetic melancholy is why some people do drugs, get married, have babies, buy expensive things or have religion. I have the road. 

And I know. I know that I wander because I always think things will be better somewhere else. I imagine all my bad habits and flaws will disappear. I think in one of these far away places I’ll find whatever it is I’m desperately looking for. And I know. I know that running away to a different location will not solve any of my problems. But it is one of the few comforts I know. Each trip teaches me more about people and life. The trips are like puzzle pieces scattered all over the world, on freeways and country roads, in mountains and cafes in major cities. Ultimately these pieces fit together and one day I’m hoping I can make sense of all the colors and shapes. For now, I’m left floating, scheming for the next trip that will show me a little more about the paths I should choose. I refuse to accept this phase as the inevitable. Anyone want to take a ride?

I kept an online journal for nights like this...

I forget at times how good my own bed can feel. Like how soft the sheets are that moment between sleep and awake or how I can take up the whole mattress and not worry about space. Before I fall asleep, however, I’m left to my thoughts and worries which probably explains why I can become an insomniac. Sharing a bed with someone used to melt those fears and quiet those anxieties. Not because of anything they said specifically but because I was distracted, too concerned about someone else to think about the meaning of everything. Now, the world weighs heavy on my mind and everything must be analyzed.

And of course this is a defense mechanism. If I can figure out the motivations and intentions behind what people do, then I can have the appropriate expectations for the outcome of our relationship or non-relationship. I lack confidence not in myself per se, but in the people that come into my life. I don’t expect anyone to stick around long enough to care so I approach them as an experience, a new addition to a pattern of events. I know this seems heartless. It’s really not. Along with being able to detach myself, I also have a strong sense of compassion and an abnormal ability to feel empathy where maybe it’s not needed. These two traits will often make me seem standoffish or uninterested initially and understanding or non-judgmental once you get to know me. It usually takes people a while to figure me out. My walls are obviously thick. 

I write all this not because it’s a new revelation. Emotional strengths and weaknesses are what I know best about myself. But lately I’ve been reminded of the type of person that I am and the type of person that I want to be. I was recently told that I have “basic narcissistic tendencies” and that I am a “fraud.” I don’t put much stock in this because this person doesn’t really know me, but the way I treated them was so uncharacteristic of who I’ve been in the past. I lied. Yes I, Kim Childs, lied and manipulated situations to avoid giving up attention. I feel a habit forming and I’m trying to root it out entirely. The drama can be so addictive though. (I lied recently to one of the few people that accept me completely as I am. She knew I was lying, but I had no reason to do it. Again, I am sorry.)

People that I trusted hurt me and I let these events change me. I’ve started assuming the standard is deceit and abandonment. In order to survive in this world I’ve been adopting behaviors from the few people that have had major negative impacts on my life. This is what I’ve been afraid of all along. This is one of those moments in my life where I ask myself, who is it exactly that I want to be? I also end up assuming blame for all that is wrong with the world and it keeps me awake at night. I need to get out of my head.