The Call.


I’ve been told time and time again by Spirit to write, write, write. So this is an exploration and probably a call into the ether for connection on more than just one level. By no means am I a guru, or even very enlightened. The search for purpose has been one of my entire life, but only within the last few years have I truly put my full energy into understanding why I am so fucked up.
Every day I awake in a different place while my physical environment stays the same. I know I’m not the only one who feels this way. I pour through articles and books hoping to find the key to unlocking my true purpose, to soothe this inner drive that continually cries for more understanding, more knowledge, more connection.

I’ve never felt like I truly belonged or fit in. Most times I view the world through a screen of my own making. Keeping life at arm’s length has been a defense mechanism against the onslaught of emotions that I could not understand without drowning in them. I’ve cried out for teachers, for someone, anyone who could just explain to me what was happening to me, and why I feel the way I do. I’ve never found one. I have always felt alone and just on the outside. The only way to combat that was to put the mask on and smile and pretend that I understood, but just stayed at the sidelines nursing my own secrets of my own volition.

Life is showing me how to accept duality. To live in the grey area between black and white. Understanding that I can exist within both sides of the spectrum simultaneously has been tremendously liberating and terrifying at the same time. There is no guidebook. There isn’t a single person on this planet who has it all figured out. I’m just learning to embrace the fact that I don’t, even though I love to pretend that I do and tell everyone else how to live their lives. At the time it feels empowering, but in the moments where I am lost and alone, it makes me feel that I cannot acknowledge those feelings to anyone else for then my mask would fall and I would be found out as a fraud.

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