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Honoring My Disenchantment

You’re just a sad song with nothin’ to say
About a life-long wait for a hospital stay
Well, if you think that I’m wrong,
This never meant nothing to ya

I spent my high school career
Spit on and shoved to agree
So I could watch all my heroes sell a car on TV
Bring out the old guillotine
We’ll show ’em what we all mean

“Disenchanted” – My Chemical Romance

At the risk of sounding like a teenage “emo” kid, I swear this album means so much to me and captures so much of what I felt being an angry and introverted teenager. I would listen to the album “Welcome to the Black Parade” and “Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge” so often that I’m pretty sure I know every song by heart. Just don’t make me sing it, okay?

Lately, I’ve been bouncing around the concept of writing about the anger that I hold onto, anger that came from those late teenage years. I feel silly when I try to say it out loud but there were some events that left lasting impressions, trauma really, that I’ve only come to terms with over this past year. I have had to let go of some of that anger and hurt. Yet, I have to acknowledge that if those events had not occurred, I would not be the person I am today: stronger, wiser, resilient, and driven.

Sometimes, listening to My Chemical Romance songs are enough to trigger a wave of memories – and I can’t help but feel that anger flow through my body again. Anger for things I said, things I did, for things that were said and done to me by those closest to me. I do not wish my experiences on anyone. Yet, I don’t think I would change things. Would I relive it? HELL THE FUCK NO. But you can be damn sure I learned from it, and will use that wisdom to help others.

Part of dealing with this anger has come from my writing and taking photographs. I mean that to say it’s been a coping mechanism; writing and developing film allowed me to focus on something that gave me joy. I could pour my heart into my poetry and short stories. I could hide behind a camera lens and in the calm shelter of a darkroom. However, I know now that I should not have hid so much. I should have been able to talk to someone about the pain and confusion I carried around. I feel like as a result of my withholding, I gave power to this self-destructive aspect of myself that was born out of heartbreak and loneliness. Again, I feel foolish putting it out there, but perhaps someone else has done the same thing to cope? Maybe it’s all just hormones, but I truly felt alone in what I was feeling.

I can feel my blood pressure rise just thinking about the people in my life who took advantage of that. I feel the anger and violence swell up in my heart and I want to both cry and punch something. So I have to stop, breathe, think about the good things I have in my life. I have to inhale and remember that I have so much to be thankful for. Yet, when it comes to forgiveness? I quickly default to forgetting as opposed to forgiving. Therein lies the problem. I need to work on forgiveness. I hear the echo of the Divine whispering to me. If I hadn’t been so torn apart perhaps I wouldn’t have “found” Paganism as a form of religion. Diving into a new form of spirituality gave me a positive comfort that had not been there before. Prayer, ritual, and connection to the Divine feminine really became my lighthouse during some of the roughest waves.

So, in dealing with the disenchantment of my teenage years, I have decided to turn my “therapy” into a project. I have to think on how it will really look, but I think it may come out in the form of letters that I don’t send. Letters addressed to either the events in my life, the emotions, or maybe even the people who hurt me. I’m know it won’t be easy but getting it out and onto paper means it no longer has hold over my heart.

Categories: Thoughts

Tagged as:

thereluctantpagan

Writer, Wannabe Artist, Overthinker, List-Maker, Photographer, Chronic Under-Salter

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