Extremes

This morning, I was feeling nostalgic, so I went on Facebook. I saw a poem by Larson Langston that begins, ‘In English, we say….’

I wrote this in response.

Can anyone else relate?

I feel emotions in such extremes
It seems
I'm caught up in a fight or flight
Defensive or Elated
Or just terrified in between.

When you frown at me, I am in despair.
What have I done wrong?
How will I be punished?

If you laugh with someone else while looking my way, 
I think,
'What have I done now?'
In what way am I less than,
How have I failed (again) to meet your expectations?

If you are angry with me,
I collapse.
"I'm sorry!  I'm sorry!"
Whether it was my fault or not.
I'm sorry I can't make it better,
That I don't know how to tell what you really 
Do expect of me.

I've spent my life trying to please
Instead of focusing on getting to know myself,
Know what makes me happy.
Trying so hard to avoid the 
Pain
The razor-sharp acidic poison that drips into my heart 
At the slightest hint of disapproval 
Causing seemingly endless eternal despair.

The fear is constant, all-prevailing.
Even on a 'good day' it lurks,
Awaiting the right moment, 
When I think I might be feeling happy,
To jump at me and pull me down
Again,
In even more pain than before.

This is how I live.

And yet.

When you smile at me,
I am uplifted.
A supernova of joy.
Yes!  I did something right!
You like me!  You love me!
I'm safe now!
I cling to you,
Ever hoping for 
That one bright spark of approval.
Of connection.

Light.

That feeling that everything is okay now.
I have a friend.
Someone who loves me.
That makes it all okay.

Slingshot emotions,
Back and forth,
Fear and Elation.

Exhaustion.

Why bother to try anymore?
It's easier to keep to myself,
To enjoy the peace of quiet solitude.  
Being around people makes me squirm, 
Uncomfortable, like an itch I cannot scratch.

Overwhelming.

But then, am I really living?
Or is living just too much?
Is it worth facing the possibility of pain,
Of deepest, darkest despair,
Of the destruction of all I hold dear?

Is it?  Is it really?

I crave the sun, the light of joy.
Yet I have become comfortable in 
The Grey twilight of the quiet zones.
The in-between is my happy place,
Afraid to be pulled too far in one direction or the other.

Acid poison pain.
Elevated ecstasy.
Fear in the middle.
Peace in between.