maymay (![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} maymaym) wrote,@ 2007-02-06 04:44:00 |
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Crying over shared insights
For personal reasons, I am really trying to do everything I can to help ease the pain that my two friends are going through. I dare say I understand a big part of it, but at the same time I can't believe I'm arrogant enough to really be able to imagine what they're going through. I've gone through horrible, similar things, but each situation is unique. There's nothing I can ultimately do, because I can't make it better, but I'll be damned if don't give it my all anyway.
I feel as though I wish were able to just take their pain onto myself to relieve them of it. That would, of course, be counterproductive (and is impossible), but my heart wrenches whenever I hear her cry and it sinks when I hear how sad he is.
We talked, I with her and I with him, and in each case the conversation inevitably makes me think of myself. It spawns images of my past, my own memories and experiences. She said it best when she said "No wonder you feel haunted here, May." Haunted...the perfect description of a life whose timeline is so incorrectly ordered that it plays as if large parts are huge flashback sequences instead of being a chronological story unfolding like everyone else's.
I cried, too. I cried with her, and I cried because my past still hurts me where the time since my previous relationships left the scars whose presence I still feel. But I cried, also, because I am scared. Too scared to mention it to either of them, but scared nonetheless.
Can I ever really feel certain enough about anything? Will I always be required to second-guess my own emotions and instincts due to my bipolar disorder? Will I come to accept my mediocrity, my lack of brilliance in the fields I was expected to shine in? Can I be content with the successes I've already attained in those same fields, the ones other people expected me to be an utter failure in?
And through it all, thanks to the incredible, unique, and completely isolating experience of all this, will my relationship continue to flourish, or will it wither? What will it be like--and what will she be like--when Sara returns from Australia?
I am very, very scared of these questions, and their answers. I don't know what to do.
For personal reasons, I am really trying to do everything I can to help ease the pain that my two friends are going through. I dare say I understand a big part of it, but at the same time I can't believe I'm arrogant enough to really be able to imagine what they're going through. I've gone through horrible, similar things, but each situation is unique. There's nothing I can ultimately do, because I can't make it better, but I'll be damned if don't give it my all anyway.
I feel as though I wish were able to just take their pain onto myself to relieve them of it. That would, of course, be counterproductive (and is impossible), but my heart wrenches whenever I hear her cry and it sinks when I hear how sad he is.
We talked, I with her and I with him, and in each case the conversation inevitably makes me think of myself. It spawns images of my past, my own memories and experiences. She said it best when she said "No wonder you feel haunted here, May." Haunted...the perfect description of a life whose timeline is so incorrectly ordered that it plays as if large parts are huge flashback sequences instead of being a chronological story unfolding like everyone else's.
I cried, too. I cried with her, and I cried because my past still hurts me where the time since my previous relationships left the scars whose presence I still feel. But I cried, also, because I am scared. Too scared to mention it to either of them, but scared nonetheless.
Can I ever really feel certain enough about anything? Will I always be required to second-guess my own emotions and instincts due to my bipolar disorder? Will I come to accept my mediocrity, my lack of brilliance in the fields I was expected to shine in? Can I be content with the successes I've already attained in those same fields, the ones other people expected me to be an utter failure in?
And through it all, thanks to the incredible, unique, and completely isolating experience of all this, will my relationship continue to flourish, or will it wither? What will it be like--and what will she be like--when Sara returns from Australia?
I am very, very scared of these questions, and their answers. I don't know what to do.
