What are we capable of?

I was having a conversation with a friend of mine the other night. We were taking about her father and the unspeakable things he had done to her mom at some point. My response to her was that it was scary to think about these people being capable of terrible things - and how the wives or husbands of murderers and abusers never saw it coming. I said how it's scary to think you might marry someone - not knowing what they are capable of that kind of violence. She responded that she believed from her experiences that humans are all capable of everything given the right conditions. She believes that you or I could kill if we are put under the right conditions. I was shocked. I thought to myself "I'm not capable of that! Never!" Then I got to thinking about this and realizing that to a point she was right and I too had felt that way... It lead to me taking an unwanted visit to my past... Recently, I was talking to another friend of mine about not wanting kids and how I had never wanted them. She was asking me why I felt that way. I gave the answer "Because I have never wanted them". This was true... But I then had a flashback to the original moment these feelings became real. My life as a child was very different. My house was violent and dark. I remember feeling terrible and hiding in the closet trying to stay unnoticed. I remember blood, and bruises and screaming. I remembered the day I decided I wanted to take my own life... And It all came together. I am a rational, lucid, and reasonable person. I have a good heart and a world of happiness and positivity, but when put under the right conditions I wanted to take my own life. I remembered thinking that and looking at different family members who show evidence of mental illness and instability. I have watched these people break and do unspeakable things. My own grandfather took his life when my mother was just a baby. My mother and my sister both show signs of potential violence. Who is to say then that I don't have the same capability. I remembered this thought. I remember the moment of desperation when I decided that if there was even a speck of that inside of me I would do the world a favor and not have children. I couldn't live with myself if I ever inflicted that kind of pain on a child. I'm terrified of what kind of mistakes I could make if another life was entrusted to me. Could this break me too? I think I would rather not find out...

Heartache

I asked the universe for a lover - for someone who could speak to my heart. I thought it answered my call. Then why does my heart still hurt... Your words kill me every day... the ones you refuse to say, the affection you refuse to give, and the trap I feel I've fallen into. I want a man who puts his arms around me when he greets me. I want him to want me - to show desire, and caring. I want him to want to share himself with me. I'm tired of being the last one to know. I'm tired of feeling unimportant. I know he cares but he can't show it. I need more... I won't let this break me down. I have been through too much to compromise myself again.

I just found this post in Saved drafts from 2009. I never posted it and I forgot that I wrote it, so I'm posting it now. What an amazing summer this was... The sun is setting over my summertime life. I can feel the minutes and seconds ticking by almost as if they are counting down the time I have left on earth. I love the life I will be returning to, but right here, right now, in this city and with these people I feel happy and safe in a way that I haven't since the passing of my grandmother. I am holding on for dear life, gasping for breathe and trying not to think of this as the end to my time with these people who have become my family in every sense of the word... Tonight we sat around a table together telling our favorite memories of eachother, and I realized that I can't imagine my life without these people. My boyfriends, it seems, come and go, but through it all, my heart continues to stay in the same place it began 5 years ago... In the city by the bay.

This concept of "home" as it seems, does not have a street address, and sometimes changes with the seasons, but the people I identify it with have faces, and names, and amazing qualities that make my heart sing. They give me love, comfort, and most of all Laughter. It makes me wonder if, perhaps, instead of sending me a lover, my soulmates were sent to me in the form of my closest friends.

With each pasing sunset over my life, a new dawn is born. I have been coming and going for so long that I dont think I can even tell the difference between the two anymore. It seems in my life that I have set up so many different lives that I am always missinig someone. Always saying goodbye to some, while saying hello to others. It's impossible to explain the role that all of these people and places play in my mind, but each has its own unique chamber in my heart and shapes me into who I am.

This summer was a shot in the dark. I almost emded up someplace else, but somehow I feel that this is where I belong right here and right now.

Inspiration for difficult times

I found this poem today and it absolutely touched my soul, so I wanted to keep it in a spot that I turn to when things are difficult. Right here on this screen. Enjoy:
The Invitation
Oriah Mountain Dreamer Canadian Teacher and Author

It doesn’t interest me what you do for a living
I want to know what you ache for
and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart’s longing.

It doesn’t interest me how old you are
I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool
for love
for your dreams
for the adventure of being alive.

It doesn’t interest me what planets are squaring your moon…
I want to know if you have touched the center of your own sorrow
if you have been opened by life’s betrayals
or have become shrivelled and closed
from fear of further pain.

I want to know if you can sit with pain
mine or your own
without moving to hide it
or fade it
or fix it.

I want to know if you can be with joy
mine or your own
if you can dance with wildness
and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your
fingers and toes
without cautioning us to
be careful
be realistic
to remember the limitations of being human.

It doesn’t interest me if the story you are telling me
is true.
I want to know if you can
disappoint another
to be true to yourself.

If you can bear the accusation of betrayal
and not betray your own soul.
If you can be faithless
and therefore trustworthy.

I want to know if you can see Beauty
even when it is not pretty
every day.
And if you can source your own life
from its presence.

I want to know if you can live with failure
yours and mine
and still stand on the edge of the lake
and shout to the silver of the full moon,
“Yes.”

It doesn’t interest me
to know where you live or how much money you have.
I want to know if you can get up
after a night of grief and despair
weary and bruised to the bone
and do what needs to be done
to feed the children.

It doesn’t interest me who you know
or how you came to be here.
I want to know if you will stand
in the center of the fire
with me
and not shrink back.

It doesn’t interest me where or what or with whom
you have studied.
I want to know what sustains you
from the inside
when all else falls away.

I want to know if you can be alone
with yourself
and if you truly like the company you keep
in the empty moments.