The Only Way Out… Is Through.

Of all my works, there is one, and only one, I cannot go near. It’s titled, “Hate My Shame.” Previously, “Hate My Shame, Hate Myself.”

One day I braved it. Took my time writing it out, and then sat there absorbed in it. Looking for areas that required correction. Remembering the feelings which triggered my PTSD and searching for connection.

Searching for connection, not in the sense that I didn’t know the answers, because I wholeheartedly knew what sparked it. “It” being the piece, as well as the PTSD. What I didn’t know, was how to deal with it. I still don’t know.

Frankly, I don’t know enough about PTSD or how to cope with/overcome it in general, because I refuse to deal with it.

I leave it on my computer’s desktop, staring at me… haunting me… fucking grinding at me. I can’t open the file.

It’s one of the main things, if not the only thing, that holds me back… but I can never bring myself to open that God damn file.

For years I have been at a loss. Unsure of what to do, how to face it, how to deal with it.  But the fact of the matter is this:

The only way out is through.

Open the damn file and deal with your shit, Zielinski!

*Side note/disclaimer: What I have stated above is quite personal. The methods that work (they’re really not working) for me, may not work for everyone (let’s be real, they work for no one). I would recommend speaking with a professional (which I have not done in many many years) before taking anything I say or do as sound advice. Peace 😉

Desire

The art of letting go?
I thought I had mastered it once.
Then I allowed this world
To soften me.
And now? 
Now I hold onto things that
May well not exist.

“I wish to weep,
But sorrow is
stupid.
I wish to believe,
But belief is a
Graveyard.”

Hang onto that
Which we know…
Is nothing without chance.
And chance is but digging a hole,
To bury ourselves in.

The very death of me,
Will be my own hope.