regret

Very recently I've come to accept that I am talented.  It fucking breaks my heart to even write that.  Here we go, even worse... I am a musical genius.  

Gross.

I have to accept it, just to believe that I can save my work for someone else to hear.  Just to believe that I can help teach other people what I've learned and tortured myself with.  Just to save their regrets, and release my own.  And to give my gift to those who would appreciate it.  It's so hard.  

It's so hard to believe those things and not be an ego maniac.  In fact, most of my time and energy is spent on service to others.  I think that's how I'm able to reconcile it all.  I'm obligated to share my gift.  To share it, I have to own it.  

For years, I destroyed most records of my work.  I never believed it was good enough and would just be ignored, annoying, awkward...

Now, I see that it is my responsibility to do this.  Whether I feel "special" or "gross".  It's my cross to bear.  And I have been.

Today, in a few hours, I plan to share some of my most beautiful work with my parents.  The people who paid for my instruments and teachers.  I am terrified.  I think my dad will love it, I think my mother will too but she won't let herself show it.

I think I'm driving my love away.  He was better off in his own world without me to shine next to him.  He is a genius, beautiful, talented.  He has yet to accept himself.  I owe him everything.  He pushed me to who I am now.  I talk with him and try to help him accept who he is and stop fighting it.  The past few days, it's made him very sick.  And I can't find a way to help him feel better.

Regrets.  I regret that I am struggling with this, and have forever.  I regret that my mom and my love feel like they don't shine because I do (like my sister).  I regret that I let their discomfort alter my work.  I regret everyone I've hurt.  

I wish I knew how I look to other people.  Why my students are intimidated by me.  Why the people I admire don't seem like they like my work.  I wish I knew how to share better.  I wish I could understand the right way to do all this.  

I am ready to know how to handle it.  I wonder if I even get it or if I'm really just a poser.

Maybe it'll get better.  I pray it all goes well.

Tick Tock

I can't sleep.  Again.

This has been a thing for me since very early on.  

When you can't sleep, and you live with other people, there comes a time in the night when you try hard not to wake them.  There's no piano playing, no hammer nailing, minimal floor board wailing.  It's a game of hide and hopefully they won't seek.

I used to learn to do new things in the middle of the night.  I taught myself to see, paint, use sign language, write poetry.  Now, I just sit up and wait for the awake time.  I used to sometimes pray, to God, to Mary, to Jesus.  I even fancied that angels would visit me.  I used to do breathing exercises and muscle tightening loosening moves.  I used to read books.  I've gotten a lot of who I am from not being able to sleep, and being able to pretend like I had the next day.

Maybe I should go back to the way I was.  I've made my own space recently.  Maybe, on these sleepless nights, I should continue to learn - to practice - to expand.  I fear so much disturbing anyone else, I've given up on quite a lot.

When I have had to lay next to another, wide awake, hearing them go deeper and deeper into their resting rhythms, I would meditate.  I would thank each atom and electron in my physical form.  I would pray and focus protection on my people.  I would pray for peace in the world.  I would take 100 deep, square, 10 count breaths.  Sometimes, I would finally go to sleep.  Sometimes, the bittersweet sound of the alarm would come and I would rise, unsure if I had touched the other realm.

Maybe I should exercise more.  I used to take long walks at night.  First solo, then with Kojo and Laurel, and then Frankie.  Sometimes after those walks, I could sleep.  I used to sing and dance for hours and go eat eggs at 3 am.  Sometimes after those nights I could sleep.  

I don't know.

I don't know why sometimes, I can sleep, and others I just can't.  I don't know why I get so uncomfortable in my own home when I can't.  I doubt it will ever change (the sleeping part).  I hope I can change the discomfort part.  God knows how it could be if I was ok with being creative or constructive while I just can't sleep.  

I'm sure I'll keep working on it.