It is difficult to hear or think or even see straight when all you hear in the background is noise. Never ending noise. It drives me crazy. It makes me mad. It makes me want to scream at it to just, "shut the hell up," and "go away," but it rarely listens. It is always there. On sunny days. On rainy days. At home. At the grocery store. In the car. When I'm with my daughter. When I'm away from her. In the morning. At night. Night is when the noise is the loudest. I lie awake in bed sometimes very late into the night. Sometimes until 3 and even 4 in the morning. I turn the t.v. on and off. On and off. I look at my phone. I read. I pray. I get water. Reposition my pillow. But that noise is always there. It is thoroughly exhausting. It makes me tired just thinking about it. It has been there forever. My first recollection of the noise is related to thunderstorms in general. Thunderstorm is the term I use to describe what thunderstorm means in my head. Which is: dark clouds, can't breathe, lightning, thunder, why is it so loud, there must be a tornado coming, my head is spinning, I wish I could disappear, what if the power goes out, what if I get struck by lightning, what if a tornado comes and sweeps me away, what if my family is swept away in a tornado, I can't breathe, diarrhea, I remember watching a show one time talking about these kinds of clouds and it produced a tornado, I remember this book I read as a child called Tornado Alert and it had pictures of houses blowing away, when will it be over, can't breathe, can't think, if I could just have a few Xanax, when will this be over...
My second recollection of the noise is when I was in Elementary school. I felt a bump. And I thought (knew) the bump was cancer. And I thought (knew) I was going to die from it. I remember waking up in the morning and feeling the bump and thinking, "maybe today is the day I will die from that cancer bump?" When going to the Doctor's office for check-ups, I would try to avoid the Doctor somehow finding and touching the bump. I thought (knew) that if the Doctor saw, felt, touched, became aware of the bump, I would die faster. It was exhausting. Thinking about the bump. I thought about that bump all the way up until the ninth grade. I was sitting in English class, and I noticed the girl across from me had a similar bump. I asked her about it. I asked how long she had had it. She looked at me like I had worms crawling out of my ears. But for me...her admission to having the bump--which she stated was, in fact, a bone, that everyone has--made me feel like a dark cloud had been lifted from above my head. I was going to live! I wouldn't die from that bump after all! It was truly a joyous day for me. But, at the same time, very sad. Sad because I had wasted years and years of my life worrying about a bone. A bone! That I thought was cancer and that I would die from.
One of my favorite movies is Mr. Magorium's Wonder Emporium. I can't watch anything scary at all...it messes with my head too much. I stick to watching comedies, dramas, romantic movies, and kid movies. Oh, and old TV shows. It's interesting that a lot of my favorite movies are kid movies. Mr. Magorium's Wonder Emporium is one of those movies that I can watch over and over. I love it. It's about life. And death. And the wonder and magic of living life with no fear. It speaks to me because I so want to live that way. I want to be like Mr. Magorium. He is fun. And silly. Fearless. His life is like poetry. And he faces his death with courage and bravery.
I face death everyday. Not literally. But in my mind. Everyday, I am reminded of the inevitable end of my life. All my fears begin with a fear of death. That is the root. And from it stems out a whole forest of fears. Thick and dark. Mr. Magorium's Wonder Emporium starts out talking about Mr. Magorium and the books written about his life. Eric (boy in the movie, narrator) states, "Magorium's story was reaching its final chapters. That's okay--all stories, even the ones we love, must eventually come to an end. And when they do, it's only an opportunity for another story to begin." What a statement. What truth.
Driving home the other day, I heard Natasha Bedingfield's "Unwritten," on the radio. I never really took the time to listen to it before because, honestly, the song kind of annoys me. But the lyrics are actually really amazing.
Things I have to do during my lifetime...in no order of importance
Noise has been written about. Noise has already had its place in my life. But, here is the amazing part: the rest is still unwritten. Mr. Magorium has a good way of putting it. He is dying (he calls it departing), and Mahoney (Portman) doesn't want him to.
My second recollection of the noise is when I was in Elementary school. I felt a bump. And I thought (knew) the bump was cancer. And I thought (knew) I was going to die from it. I remember waking up in the morning and feeling the bump and thinking, "maybe today is the day I will die from that cancer bump?" When going to the Doctor's office for check-ups, I would try to avoid the Doctor somehow finding and touching the bump. I thought (knew) that if the Doctor saw, felt, touched, became aware of the bump, I would die faster. It was exhausting. Thinking about the bump. I thought about that bump all the way up until the ninth grade. I was sitting in English class, and I noticed the girl across from me had a similar bump. I asked her about it. I asked how long she had had it. She looked at me like I had worms crawling out of my ears. But for me...her admission to having the bump--which she stated was, in fact, a bone, that everyone has--made me feel like a dark cloud had been lifted from above my head. I was going to live! I wouldn't die from that bump after all! It was truly a joyous day for me. But, at the same time, very sad. Sad because I had wasted years and years of my life worrying about a bone. A bone! That I thought was cancer and that I would die from.
One of my favorite movies is Mr. Magorium's Wonder Emporium. I can't watch anything scary at all...it messes with my head too much. I stick to watching comedies, dramas, romantic movies, and kid movies. Oh, and old TV shows. It's interesting that a lot of my favorite movies are kid movies. Mr. Magorium's Wonder Emporium is one of those movies that I can watch over and over. I love it. It's about life. And death. And the wonder and magic of living life with no fear. It speaks to me because I so want to live that way. I want to be like Mr. Magorium. He is fun. And silly. Fearless. His life is like poetry. And he faces his death with courage and bravery.
I face death everyday. Not literally. But in my mind. Everyday, I am reminded of the inevitable end of my life. All my fears begin with a fear of death. That is the root. And from it stems out a whole forest of fears. Thick and dark. Mr. Magorium's Wonder Emporium starts out talking about Mr. Magorium and the books written about his life. Eric (boy in the movie, narrator) states, "Magorium's story was reaching its final chapters. That's okay--all stories, even the ones we love, must eventually come to an end. And when they do, it's only an opportunity for another story to begin." What a statement. What truth.
Driving home the other day, I heard Natasha Bedingfield's "Unwritten," on the radio. I never really took the time to listen to it before because, honestly, the song kind of annoys me. But the lyrics are actually really amazing.
I am unwritten, can't read my mind, I'm undefined
I'm just beginning, the pen's in my hand, ending unplanned
Staring at the blank page before you
Open up the dirty window
Let the sun illuminate the words that you could not find
Reaching for something in the distance
So close you can almost taste it
Release your inhibitions
Feel the rain on your skin
No one else can feel it for you
Only you can let it in
No one else, no one else
Can speak the words on your lips
Drench yourself in words unspoken
Live your life with arms wide open
Today is where your book begins
The rest is still unwritten
I'm just beginning, the pen's in my hand, ending unplanned
Staring at the blank page before you
Open up the dirty window
Let the sun illuminate the words that you could not find
Reaching for something in the distance
So close you can almost taste it
Release your inhibitions
Feel the rain on your skin
No one else can feel it for you
Only you can let it in
No one else, no one else
Can speak the words on your lips
Drench yourself in words unspoken
Live your life with arms wide open
Today is where your book begins
The rest is still unwritten
Kind of amazing, right. "Drench yourself in words unspoken...Today is where your book begins, the rest is still unwritten." No matter what one has written about them in the books of their lives so far...the rest is still unwritten. I've kept journals for as long as I can remember. Most times they are just--painful--to look through. Pages and pages of poor me, teen angst, why doesn't the world revolve around me...crap. But some of it makes sense. One such entry goes like this:
Things I have to do during my lifetime...in no order of importance
1. see the northern lights
2.see a whale in the wild, raging sea
3.swim with dolphins
4.write and publish a book
5.make a difference
6.walk down the aisle and become a wife to the man I love
7.have babies
8.be a teacher
9.go skinny-dipping
10.go sky diving, but not just to jump, but to leave the damn past and the 50,000 pounds of baggage behind me. I would just jump--and I would open my eyes and feel the burden gone--and I would look back only once to say fuck* you--I knew I could beat you.
*(Pardon the language...but sometimes there is just not an appropriate substitution for the word that makes a statement what it is.)
That 50,000 pounds of baggage I'm talking about it is all the NOISE! All the fears. All the times I have laid awake at night thinking that death was upon me. Panic attacks, paranoia, obsessive-compulsive thoughts and behaviors...noise, noise, noise! Noise that steals time away from me. And my family. Noise that makes me cringe. Noise that disturbs me.
"Your life is an occasion, rise to it." Ummm, wow. All my life, I've been afraid. Afraid of death. Afraid of dying. Afraid of my loved ones dying. It has been the common denominator of all my fears. But, I'm looking to write some new chapters in my life. The rest is still unwritten. Death hurts. True. There is no denying that death leaves a raw spot on your heart that will never scab over. But like Eric said in the movie, "all stories, even the ones we love, must eventually come to an end. And when they do, it's only an opportunity for another story to begin." What an amazing statement. And it's the truth. I've seen death. I've lost many loved ones throughout the years. And it hurts. And stings. And it is a pain unlike any other. But with each death, with each ending to a book, a new one begins. So, maybe death isn't something to fear. Maybe it's something to learn from. And instead of focusing of death...I will focus on life, because, "your life is an occasion," and I should, "rise to it."
