Shock therapy

Have I truly disconnected from it in such a way that seems humanly impossible? Why do I behave like this is not happening to me but rather treat it like a bad scene from a third-grade movie. The events play out in my head when I least expect them to. The intrusive thoughts are maddeningly frequent on some days and few, yet painful on others. I wonder if I want it to revisit me, so I can be reminded of the gravity of the most uncontrollable situation I have ever faced. Suddenly, but surely enough, the contradictions begin to unfold...of course it was controllable, I tell myself, while another voice whispers that nothing could have been done to avoid it. Would I much rather let the guilt trips get the better of me or try to calm myself into some semblance of sanity?The answer is confusing. If the guilt ceases to exist, then the whole event is wiped out from my mind. But I cannot have that. I know I must remember every crawling bit of that evening that changed my world.

Decision-making was never my forte, but this one sadly made me fall into the very worst labyrinth that I cannot escape from. Maybe this is what shock feels like. No stress, no fear or anxieties...just a remarkable numbness. A feeling that leaves one so deadened that almost nothing can shake one out of it. Of course, it is ridiculously simple to maintain a facade of normality...and it certainly is a requirement. But to dissociate from something which takes epic proportions in your mind, is scarily unhealthy. You feel, yet you don't. You stir, but it induces sleep. When there's wakefulness, your mind draws a blank. When there is uncomfortable silence with yourself, it creeps up on you. Dismiss it, it grows back. Disregard it, it pursues you. Sometimes it hurts like a thousand pin-pricks or a great big fire or worse yet, saltwater filling your lungs. But you laugh it off and say its some kind of bad dream.

A magical evening

I am not much of a romantic. But I have to say, I have my moments. Recently, I was in Vienna at the State Opera House. During the guided tour, my mind conjured up images of all the possible backstage romances that may have taken place over the years. Maybe it was because Vienna had an air of romance about it...or maybe it was the awe-inspiring interiors of the famous opera house. What can I say?The place had an aura about it. Little did I know that I would be watching a performance in the very same building that very night!

Cheapest tickets in Europe....4 Euro..standing tickets, but nonetheless completely amazing. It was a dream come true. I did not care that my feet ached continuously for 3 hours or that it was hot and stuffy. It did not matter that everyone had made a dash for the galleries with their scarves, a strange phenomenon that we knew nothing about. Yes, we were reduced to standing on the middle staircase and craning our necks, while cursing tall Europeans. But "Romeo and Julia" was absolutely incredible. Ballet is one of the most graceful, expressive dance forms. The sets were mind-blowing. The acting, or should I say the dancing, was magnificent. When Juliet died, it was a heart-wrenching moment for the audience. It could not have been performed better. I have to admit, I had goosebumps several times during the third act.

I left 'Statsoper' with a warm, heady feeling (which for a change, had nothing to do with alcohol!), with images of the night's performance imprinted in my mind forever. I do still maintain that I am not a true-blue romantic, just an occasional one! I suppose it had everything to do with watching a truly magical rendition of the play...certainly a night to remember!

Fool's Day

I have made it quite a habit to write my posts on the first of each month. Ironically, it is Fool's Day today. It makes me want to reflect about myself, especially how so many of you perceive me as a naive idiot. Well, maybe I am! I amaze myself at this ability to go through life like a bumbling fool. No wonder I trip on the street each day and almost get hit by cabs, no wonder I make mistakes without wanting to. It is no surprise that I have the capacity to give up everything or bestow all that I have on one idea. It isn't beyond belief that I cherish a happy memory or a wish or dare to hope against all hope that it may come true. As much as I would hate to admit it, I believe in the idea of 'someday'. If that qualifies me as a proud member in the idiot category, then so be it.

For someone whose last 2 years have been so full of pain, I suppose I draw comfort in being a dreamer. My absent-mindedness which often annoys those around me helps to give me comfort. In naivete, I seek strange solace. Hopelessly believing in certain things can be almost perfectly juxtaposed with remaining staunchly practical and realistic about other things. Yes, I come across as a confused, rather mixed up, highly contradictory person. Unfortunately, it works for me. If I then fall squarely into the fool's domain, let me learn to live with it.