A cold night's journey

Night is my enemy. Let me rephrase that. Night is not my enemy save for times I allow myself to just sit and ponder life. I now know why I choose to work midnights. Because I think. Thinking is good when it’s productive. What to make for dinner? Where do I want to be in five years? Which is the quickest route to run my errands? I can handle basic thinking. But night thinking is a hazard to my health. I can walk the streets at night and see the beauty in the night. I can feel the chill in the air, focus on the sounds of cars in the distance and trees swaying, their leaves falling gracefully to the ground. That is peaceful, reassuring and welcoming to me.

I always praise myself for not involving emotion. It is a must to survive in this industry. But I have come to realize that as much as I like to think I am in control of not reaching that emotion, it really has become my way of life. No, it is not just Belle protecting herself. It is me. It is me being scared as hell to feel anything.

I know where this comes from. I know it is my mind’s way of protecting me from the depression I lived through in my younger years. I swore to myself when I finally broke that cycle that I would never, ever fall into those depths again. It was a good vow, or so I thought. That was fifteen years ago I made that pact. And it has been 15 years of not letting people in. Fifteen years of telling my self how cruel the world is. Fifteen years of numbness.

Now, looking back on those 15 years I see just what that numbness has done to me. I have never asked anyone for help. I have never leaned on anyone, because I have never let myself believe I needed anyone. And the cold hard truth at the end of the day? It really sucks. Perhaps not the most literary comment to make but it is what it is. Fifteen years of drilling it into my head that I can only count on me, I make my destiny, I choose what happens in my life. I am in control and if I share that with anyone I give up a piece of that control leaving myself vulnerable.

And in some ways it has worked well for me. Maybe not healthy but it has worked well. It has kept me strong, balanced and predictable. My emotion doesn’t waiver therefore my life stays stable. And I need that stability. What has hurt me though is that I have turned against the world. Instead of allowing myself to feel hurt, I feel anger. Not towards people, just the forces surrounding me. I allow myself to believe that it’s me against the world. And I am determined to win. But I am bitter.

I am at a stage in my life now that I know I need to open those doors, break down a brick or two from that 50 foot wall I have spent 15 years building. But the thing is, I just don’t know how. I am a woman and we tend to be emotional by nature, yet I cannot cry for myself. I can shed tears for my children. But I cannot shed tears for me. I cannot allow myself to feel pity or sorrow. Those are weak emotions and I refuse to let myself feel weak. I cannot admit when I have been defeated, when life has briefly overcome me and I am lost. So I carry on, unemotional, unreachable, unhuman.

We are all faced with life changing events at some point in our existence. For some, it may be something they face quite often. It is a part of life, a crossroads of sorts. Those moments when you know things are upside down and you have to somehow put it all back into place but a different place than before. And by nature we want to escape. I think that is what a lot of this business comes down to and why many participate in it. It’s an escape. It’s an hour, or 2 or more that you are taken away from that confusion.


My mistake has been to let people go, to push them away when I had needed them the most. Those friends that required more from me when I was not preared to give. So I shut them out. Just like that I can blow out the candle and never give them a second thought. I don’t feel a loss, I won’t allow myself to feel it. I just carry on, numb. But those are outsiders. I can handle that. What bothers me is that I do it to family. I just say goodbye and blow out the candle. Some I have not spoken to in years. No hurt. No sense of loss. They just simply become a faint memory with no emotion attached to their relation to me. They put me in a situation to feel, I won’t allow myself to so I snuff them out and walk away. That is cold. How can I be so cold yet have such a passion for life?

But that has been my way of life for so many years. I love people. I love talking about life, I enjoy sharing that passion for life, for each other. Yet I can’t let them get too close. I just can’t. I think I want to sometimes, but shut down before I do. This has nothing to do with sexual relationships but more of just feeling the need to have personal attachment. To feel connected to the world instead of resisting its’ forces.

Does anyone really have the answer though, that key to life? Is it so wrong to live as I do? Why is it people are of the belief that you need to have a support system. You have to open up, express yourself, cry when they feel you should cry. Is it wrong that I do not pity myself? Is it wrong that I choose to be numb as opposed to getting hurt? It keeps me strong and reaffirms my belief in myself. It is my numbness that gets me by when most would fall apart. I don’t want to fall apart. I don’t want to feel needy or dependent on anyone. I don’t want to cry!

Wow, I do believe I just expressed myself! And now I toy with the idea of posting this to my blog. This is exactly what I mean. I usually open up my MS Word program with a purpose, something I want to share with you. Tonight I just opened it up as I was listening to music, something I haven’t done in a very long time. I found myself writing, unscripted. As I reread it I realize how I have written from a different place tonight. But I will post it…….and make a note to myself to never drink Ice Wine again while listening to Peter Gabrielle!