The Affliction Waltz of the Pain-Stricken
“If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?”
This book revelation is not a reflection of The Love Songs of W.E.B. DuBois but this reading blitz has opened a door to intrusive thoughts, a door which before was only slightly cracked to allow the internal darkness to seep out bit by bit. Dodging the role of being the bad guy isn’t something I typically do because I have to be perfect. I have to do everything right. There isn’t any room for flaws, mistakes, or the things required for character development. However, I’ll take on the role at any time to blame myself, especially if being the bad guy alleviates anyone else from carrying a burden. Hand me the name tag and crown me the problem. Very self-sacrificial and martyr behavior but to what end? Or better yet, whose end?
There’s a dance of affliction that I’ve found comfort in doing with myself. The crescendo of my heart’s palpitations paralyzes me into a swaying motion. I don’t know when I found myself on the other side of the door waltzing in the darkness, it wasn’t until I met Ailey Pearl Garfield that I opened my eyes to discover the ripples of blackness. It’s willful ignorance to call the affliction waltz comfort when I know it’s a cramped familiarity. It’s easy because it’s what I know how to do, shelter the darkness and be the bad. Kind of like Lydia Claire Garfield - controlling a warped narrative while stretching my arms out to hold a piece of power. But I don’t want to do it anymore. I don’t have to do it anymore. I carry my shame, my guilt, my pain… and no one else’s. I stare the three infuriating emotions in the face to tell them that they do not dictate the person I am and will be. That they do not define who I am or who I am not. I forgive myself for listening to the internal howls of negativity that hummed a brainwashing tune for me to dance myself into believing as the truth. I recognize it for what it is — now what do I do?
I am a tree that fell in a forest. No one heard it. But I did make a sound.
It was the faintest wail. Didn’t you hear me? I have to go. I have to go read.