Anxiety

I am here in the homes of others. I sit at their table. I am surrounded by their awards and honors. Their friends are all here. I sit in the corner of the room. I once sat at a table. My own table today is small and hidden. I was wounded before. I fear those who know me. Yet all those I meet are kind and caring. I think in  old  hierarchies. I am scanning for enemies. I am carrying hurt and shame. I have always felt an outsider even when I was not. I belong here and no one cares for me or cares not for me. People are thinking of themselves.

I am disturbed by my defensive negativity, the cynicism I wear on my shoulder. 

I am angry at my own criticism. I carry my criticism as a weapon and a shield. I am so prickly I would hurt myself if I hugged myself.

This is a nice house. It’s a pleasant room. I’m out of the weather. The people are well heeled and smell  nice. Some are coming in and others going out. I’m more yesterday than tomorrow but wouldn’t need to be. It has been my choice. I’ve devoted more time to my own little home.

Those who hurt me are still shouting loudly while I always walk on egg shells. I avoid so many and so much and feel safest in wilds and danger. I was stabbed in the back which is betrayal. The saddest aspect of this experience is betrayal is always by family and friends and even more frightening by ones self. 

I have the choice now between fear or love and gratitude. The critic always sees and seeks the negative. The grateful seek the positive. Expectations have been called pre formed resentments.

The reformer is the enemy of anyone who benefits from the status quo.

I feel perplexed and bemused here. I am going through the motions. I’m being of service supporting this good house but ask if I am best serving the needs of my little home 

I would like to be where I am my best. The best me, is it best served in others homes, or must I get my own home in order.

What really do I want? Who have I chosen as my audience? Who do I have looking on,sitting on my shoulder. Are they as useful today as they once were? Who would I impress tomorrow? Must I impress? 

The adolescent questions once answered satisfactorily to create a life must now be asked again to create a death.Friends are dying. War and rumors of war. Time is present. Am I ready? Is there oil stil in the lamp. Is the lamp lit. Am I light? Am I walking towards the light. Is the light chasing me?

To be light hearted and humorous among the hostile and afraid. Egg shells. Walking on egg shells. Serious, amidst giants. Feeling little and complete, Tiny houses. Tiny homes No mansions.. Reduced and minimalist. Moving. Releasing attachments. What can we take with us? But love.