I remember now.
When I was younger, I would have nightmares that I was falling.
Falling down a deep pit, with catwalks along the sides.
I was falling straight down, falling slowly enough that I could see clearly my surroundings.
And there were people on the catwalks, watching me fall, and I would call out to them for help, and they would turn away.
I had this dream over and over when I was small. When I say that I was small, I mean I wasn't even ten years old when this dream was visiting me.
It went away sometime in my early teen years, only to resurface periodically. It was always the same.
Always.
I haven't had that dream in a long time. It's been many years, in fact. My nightmares have changed, though I am still somewhat afraid of heights.
But I drew that picture, and I looked at it, and I had that same feeling... that feeling of helplessness that intensifies the more disconnected you become.
There is fear in those eyes. A fear I know all too well.
It is fear of falling, fear of losing control.
Fear has characterised much of my life... my depression was, perhaps, a symptom of it.
I have been afraid of people. Afraid to be my self, afraid to even look at my self, never mind allow someone else to see me. Afraid to reach out to others - not only because I was afraid of being rejected, but because I was afraid of acceptance.
Which is silly, because really, what I most wanted was acceptance. To be accepted for my self, as I truly am.
I am still somewhat afraid of allowing my self to be known. I am hesitant to share my ADHD diagnosis with others. So, while I don't keep it a secret (I write of it in many public places, from blogs to e-mail lists), I do not offer up the information during conversation. And sometimes I feel like a hypocrite for behaving in this manner.
Fear
copyright © 12.28.99 Janna Hoskin
Afraid to be me
Afraid to be self
Afraid of others
Afraid
I can’t let anyone in, can’t let anyone see who I really am.
I give them what they want, give them who they want, and they go away pleased.
But I’m hurting inside, I’m crying inside, I’m yearning to be set free.
I’m afraid of freedom.
I’m afraid to let myself be my self, even here, in my writing, where nobody else will see.
So I search out those who are their own selfs, and I let them touch my self.
But I can’t get too close, mustn’t touch the burner when it’s on, don’t want to get burned.
Fear pushes them away.
I’m pulling others in with one hand and pushing them away with the other.
It’s a very lonely space to be in, but I can’t find the way out.
And when I find someone like me, who is a lot of masks over the real self,
I think I have found my kin, and I ruin what could have been
By placing my expectations of samenes
When what I myself need is no expectations, no thanks, no compliments, no nothing
Just permission to be
And then maybe I can stop being so afraid.
The following poetry is about this state of soul. It is about emotion, about losing the ability to feel, about the fear that inhabits so much of that dark descent.
I Have Forgotten
copyright © 12.17.98 Janna Hoskin
I have forgotten how to cry.
I didn't even realize it
until I tried last night
tears running down
sobs struggling for a voice
but nothing coming out
a vain attempt to express
emotion.
I have forgotten how to feel.
I didn't even realize it
until I tried last night
pain deep inside
frustration welling up
and nothing coming out
a vain attempt to express
emotion.
I have forgotten what it is to cry.
To feel honest emotion is a mystery to me.
I have hidden the truth for far too long,
and now it is lost even to me...
when I need these abilities so much.
To feel, perchance to cry...
is this what Shakespeare meant
when he wrote of sleeping and dreams?
I ride my wishes into eternity
and hold fast to the though,
"I have forgotten how to cry."
Losing it All
copyright © 11.30.00 Janna Hoskin
Big, wide smile stretches from ear to ear –
you’d never guess
that she’s dying inside,
that she’s crying inside,
that she’s hurting...
Her eyes are bright with tears –
but seem happy
hidden under a smile,
hidden under that voice,
hidden well inside...
Alone in the shadows, the truth resides
and that is when the tears fall down
dripping into her lap like blood
from the wounds she imagines she’s caused.
The smile is strained, and people wonder –
but nobody asks
if she needs a friend,
if a hug from a friend
would pull her in...
Her eyes become dull and clouded –
the blush of joy
has faded with time,
has died with time,
has drowned in sorrow...
Alone in the shadows, the truth resides
and that is when the blood falls down
dripping into her lap like raindrops
washing the pain away from her soul.
The smile is still now, there’s silence around –
shock has set in
there’s nothing left,
there’s no way to change it,
there’s no time...
Her eyes are closed against the light –
blank and unseeing
no past to remember
no present to love
no future to plan for...
Alone in the shadows, the truth resides
and that is when her life fell down
running away from pain and sorrow
hoping to start all over again.
copyright © 02.04.02 Janna Hoskin
Do you see the real me
behind the smiles and the stares?
The bit of me that wants to speak,
the part of me that's afraid.
The pieces of me I can't express,
the thoughts I keep inside.
Do you see the real me
behind the sparkle and the fears?
The bit of me that wants to shine,
the part of me that's afraid.
The pieces of me that are the best,
the times that I'm tongue-tied.
Do you see the real me
behind the laughter and the tears?
The bit of me that wants to live,
the part of me that's afraid.
The pieces of me that I made a mess,
the ends I never tied.
Do you see the real me?
Hiding in the shadows
venturing forth when it sams safe
hopefully seeking a friend.
Tears
copyright © 02.04.03 Janna Hoskin
I'm so tired of holding these tears inside,
Can't keep them back much longer.
All the pain, the hurt and sorrow
Built a wall that's fallen over.
And what if I finally cry this sadness?
Will it drown my heart and soul?
And when will I finally cry this sadness?
Before it breaks my heart any more?
I'm so tired of keeping this smiling facade,
Can't keep it up much longer.
All the beaming jokes and laughter
Hide this broken heart and soul.
And what if I finally cry this sadness?
Will it drown my heart and soul?
And when will I finally cry this sadness?
Before it breaks my heart any more?
I've shattered into so many pieces,
I can't put the bits into place.
I've lost my self in the shards of myself,
And I'm losing this unending race.
I'm so tired of being the strong one
Can't I be weak just this once,
And let someone else be my strength
While I fix up this battered shell?
And what if I finally cry this sadness?
Will it drown my heart and soul?
And when will I finally cry this sadness?
Before it breaks my heart any more?
Damnation
copyright © 02.07.04 Janna Hoskin
Not these tears again.
The never-ending dryness
That sticks in your mouth
Until nothing can quench your thirst
But this pain.
I don’t want to eat this bread.
Not this pain again.
The dull ache that lies, forgotten,
At the bottom of emotion
Until the spring bubbles forth once more
And it rises.
I don’t want to drink this cup.
Not this breaking again.
The lostness that lives forever,
Devouring you inside out
Until there’s nothing but hunger inside
For this love.
I don’t want to die this way.
Not this love again.
The secret wishes and hopes,
Focussed on idealism
Burning in the intensity and heat
Of rejection.
I don’t want to rise this way.
There is no salvation here.
Tomorrow, I hope I will find some of my more positive poems, about God and the search for meaning and love.
This is not really where I want to leave you tonight. There is not only negativity and despair to talk about. There is joy, and hope, and freedom.
On the other side of the darkness we come into our selves in the Light of salvation - the Light of love and mercy and grace, which holds us tenderly and safely within itself until we are renewed enough to venture into the darkness once more.
This examining of my experience of the pit from the vantage point of the hillside, I realize, may not seem like it is coming from a place of respect or attachment to the past.
But it is.
If I were to examine my past without respecting it, then I would not be respecting my self, for my past is part of me.
And so I am examining my past in order to learn my self better, so that I might make my way through this becoming and emerge whole and beautiful.
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