I think of the sea when I need comfort. Sometimes I'm looking out at it from the shoreline. Others, I am beneath a wave and gazing up, awash in blue. Rarer yet, I imagine being swept away by the tide.
Though I have loved Tokyo dutifully and intimately, it does not have easy access to the ocean. I have written extensively about all the little things I love about this city; I think I'm due to write about one that I don't.
I know that it's not Tokyo's fault that this happened to me, and yet the city seems to oscillate between being a place that I love and a place of nightmares. It is at once a place where the environment is hostile and the people uncaring, but also a city of dreams and infinite possibilities. The truth (whatever that may be) of the matter is obscured by blood and tears.
There's a distinct before and after, marked by the agonizing death of my belief that humans are intrinsically good. Where I used to be open and curious, I find an urge to be silent and withdrawn. As I go about my day, I look at the people around me and feel that they must all hate me, that they must wish me harm in ways horrible and inconceivable. And if I was not very careful, they would enact their cruelty the moment I turned my back. I never used to think like this. In fact, it was quite the opposite. I used to believe that people, on the whole, wished me well because that is how I naturally felt about them. With a mingled sense of sadness and rage, I mourn the end of what I had hoped was eternal optimism.
I no longer feel that anyone will make the earnest effort to love me without hurting me. Such innocent and sincere intimacy seems like a wild fantasy.
And so, I return to the sea in my mind, where the sun is warm on my face, and I feel safe. Nobody can hurt me here. Here, I am free from the expectations of the outer world. I am even free from my own burning desires to be loved and touched tenderly by a man. Are men even capable of such touch? Of tenderness without an ulterior motive? It disturbs me that my mind is even thinking in such absolutes; I'd always thought I was better than that, more intelligent than generalizations. But alas, I am not.
I can only hope that time will put things back in their rightful place.
I have changed, and I do not yet know if it's for the better.
Everything is still very recent and fresh, so things will still hurt and stay with you. At least for a while. But I do want to say that you don't have to give up on thinking there are good people in this world cause there are. One just has to be careful and cautious of those around you. No one is noticing others and inherently hating them just cause they exist. If anything, most people are just withdrawn in themselves and going through their own things. But of course this isn't to say that there aren't those that want to cause harm to others.
ReplyDeleteGrowing up in NY trained me to always be aware of your surroundings but don't go in auto fight mode either. There is still good in this world, in both men and women. Don't let the negative energies consume you.
There is a saying in my family that translates to "throw yourself in the ocean" after it feels like so much bad has happened. Basically to cleanse yourself and get rid of the attracting vibes to negative energy. Reading your post reminded me of that.
Time is a healer of all things and you will need to give yourself that time to try to heal from all of this. Just take it one step at a time. <3
You're right. One of the things I always liked about myself was my unwavering optimism. I truly believed in the inherent goodness of others, in spite of the mistreatment I've faced throughout my life. In the first week after the assault, I really did think this part of me was snuffed out forever. But I'm starting to realize that this quality is intrinsic to me and not something anyone can take away. It's just a bit buried in the sand at the moment. I have faith that I'll be able to dig it out. Eventually.
Delete"Throw yourself into the ocean." I really like that. That's basically how I've been feeling lately.
Thank you. Those words don't feel like they're doing enough to fully communicate how grateful I am. But I'll say them again regardless: thank you.