Sunday, 11 May 2014

I lie awake. . .

Ivy Lies is an all-female rock group and the only band (or artist) in New Zealand that starts with the letter "i". Listening to their music makes me smile (even when the lyrics aren't meant to make people smile) because it serves as a reminder of how special music made by women can sound.  Something about the organic earthiness of it all.  

I'm holding all nightmares
And I'm cradling the pain
But nobody cares enough
To push the pain away

I guess if you let it, when it really comes down to it, you can't really rely on people (sometimes).  That doesn't decisive, but what I mean is that, people can't be tasked with the responsibility of pushing your own pain away - because only you have the power to do that.

Somebody help me
I wanna come back again
I wanna feel whole again
I wanna feel something

The desire to "feel" again is there, but it may hard to find your way back when parts of you have been stripped away never to be retrieved. How do you begin to heal and feel something again? Did you give yourself permission to come back again? Because then you almost have to be careful about what you mean by I wanna feel whole again, I wanna feel something.  It's like people don't expect you to even want to be those things again. But who made them the keepers of your sanctuary (or sanity - depending on how much power you give over. . .).

Oh and you know
Oh and you know
I feel nothing 

I sometimes think about answering people this way, when they ask me - how are you?  How do you feel really? Which is confusing, because what more information can I provide when you add "really" at the end of the question?  Will that addition make me answer more truthfully, the way that you want me to answer, because my answer doesn't satisfy your curiosity? Sometimes in an effort to speak your truth, it may not be what other people want to know or expect to hear from you, so they'll ask you again until you show some cracks or chinks in your armour (way to go - push someone to breaking point).

Sleep, repeat, trace
Bury me, I
Sleep, repeat, trace
Bury me, I

That incessant conveyor belt approach to life, stuck in auto pilot, what kind of life is that? Are you honouring yourself by existing rather than living?  Is that really what you want for yourself?  These are just a couple of things that I think about when I lie awake.