Thursday, October 04, 2007

Day By Day

I wrote this last night and deleted it soon after because I got overly self-conscious about it, but apparently my LJ feed picked it up anyway, so everybody getting my feed via LJ read it anway. Jackie thinks it's one of my better posts, so shit, since LJ's already seen it, I'll put it back up:


'People are often lonely because they build walls instead of bridges.' --Anonymous

"You can't fight diabetes -- you have to befriend it otherwise it will take you."

One of the gifts of nearly dying, of continually living at the edge of dying, has been this incredible realization of just how fleeting and precious life really is, of how easily it slips away.

I know what dying feels like: you go to sleep. It goes dark. Everything stops.

Everything just stops.

The journey I've been on now, this life I'm living now, this is all borrowed time; it feels stolen, and ever so precious. It means I appreciate the people in my life more. I love more. I take more risks, because I realize that sometimes, we don't have the time for second chances.

I'm even more adament about following my heart, my passion, my bliss. But more than that, I am learning all about the stuff that isn't "me" and "mine."

I spent a lot of time trying to protect myself from everything, trying not to get hurt, because I was so screwed over in my first relationship, because I became a person I didn't like. I ran all around the world and proved I was strong and independent. I thought I had proved that I didn't need anyone or anything. I had a grand merry fucking time, and I still plan on hopping all around the world, but the stuff I was looking for, that hole in my heart, that was always still there. I just got better at pretending that that's how life was supposed to be, walking around with pieces of yourself missing.

I have learned bravery. I've learned to love people only as much as they will let me, and I've learned to pursue what I am passionate about. And I have learned so much compassion. I am learning so much compassion. Because when you have been so scared, so lonely, so full of fear, you understand that craziness in others, that desperate grasping for something stable and solid in a crazy fucking world.

You learn patience.

Because life is big and loud and precious, yes, but it's also really terrifying and really hard.

But trust me - it's all a lot better than death. Better than dying with a hole in your heart.

That's what I want to make of my life now, the person I want to be. I want to let people back in. There is risk, yes, but the potential reward? The full life? Living it out as a whole person?

Totally worth the journey, even if you never get there.

We have only this life. This is what we've got. And it's always shorter than you imagined, there at the end.

"May you live as long as you wish and love as long as you live."
-Robert Heinlein

5 comments so far. What are your thoughts?

Jackie M. said...

It's just... one of the things that makes this blog so inspirational is reading about how you deal with this shit. Physically, emotionally, psychologically--you're talking yourself through this one day at a time. Cheerleading. Gritty, muddy, emotionally-wrenching, foul-weather cheerleading. And sometimes (very often?) the cheerleading effect extends to your readers, as well.

And yeah, part of the interest is in watching you wrestle with self-consciousness and vulnerability and your instincts to try appear strong at all times.

Kameron Hurley said...

have been, and continue to be, on a long hard road.

I think the thing is, I know that the journey's never over, you know? It's not like there's a big "hurrah! I figured life out! Follow these ten simple steps and you too can be perfect!"

I'm in a constant state of ebb and flow, of learning, of wanting to be better, of trying to understand myself and my craziness and other people and theirs.

It's hard sometimes to share it these days, you know, because it's like so much of it isn't just shared by me, but the people I've touched (good and bad) and been touched by (good and bad) the last couple years. Older stuff is easier to hash over, but this new stuff has been and continues to be really fucking tough.

It's easy to hit somebody in the face. It's a lot harder to figure out how to talk them (and yourself) down and come to some greater understanding about all the fucked up brain stuff and insecurity that got you to that place, emotionally, in the first place.

It's something I knew all along, but I think I'm just now really starting to figure out how to live that, how to do that, how to let go of my bullshit (how to start trying to let go of my bullshit) in order to... really love? Maybe you can't love if you're carrying around all your bullshit? I don't know, but I'm willing to find out.

This is a long road. A never-ending one. It's fucking hard. Every fucking step.

Matthew said...

I didn't want to see this post slip away. So thank you, Jackie, faithful ally in the battle at Fort Chlamydia.

I'm not sure how many people I speak for, but some reason, it's ridiculously easy to drift off into generalized apathy and denial of one's mortality. There are massive parts of the personality that shut down over years of people not wanting to really answer them, and rebooting it can seem like something that's impossible or too hard or maybe just not something you can do on your own or whatever. So I'll take all the reminders that I'm dying that I can get, thank you. Maybe I'll catch on eventually.

Anonymous said...

Dear Ms. Hurley,
I just want to let you know that I will be reading your blog for my University Writing Course. Thank you for the opportunity.

Kameron Hurley said...

Umm... well, cool!

I hope you're getting credit for it. ha ha