Dissonant

Sometimes, living in my head is like a piece of modern music: chaotic, inspired and uncontrollably dissonant. Besides the fact that I get overwhelming sensations of cultural estrangement, the over-analytic side of my brain takes hold and then, only time will tell what sorts of nonsense will come pouring out. Analytical, romantic, creative, logical, spontaneous… It can verge on whirlwind territory. One thing I know for sure though. Every thing I think and feel seems to be at odds with the surrounding symphony. It gets sort of disorienting after a while. 

These days, every time I give words to what I feel, it comes out differently. Quantitatively, qualitatively, I have no sound method of recording this state of mind. So, to lessen the pressure of my brain, I'm writing… To untangle a corner of the mess. For me, it all comes back to something I stumbled across this week. On Friday, one of my literary heroes passed on, Chinua Achebe. Looking for a fitting way to remember him, I stumbled across a quote of his: “One of the truest tests of integrity is its blunt refusal to be compromised." Now, I don't claim that I have integrity of superhuman proportions, but it is a quality I seek to emulate in my life and in my sense of self…

Over the last weeks, I seem to be perpetually confronted with situations that would have been less complicated if I had merely compromised pieces of my sense of self. Everything from my understanding of friendship to my penchant for sass. Each time, I've debated the merits of compromise. Compromise for love or companionship. Compromise to save face. Compromise to appease people's hurt pride. Now let me explain something here. I'm not equating compromise with the humility necessary to recognize when you are in the wrong. To me, that humility is essential, compromise… Well, I'm not convinced. Are you really a person of integrity if you literally go any way the wind blows? Would I rather please a majority of the people who surround me or fall asleep every night content with the humility and confidence with which I was Davita that day? 

I can't say that right now I'm okay. My heart is heavy. My brain is buzzing. For better or for worse, I'm going to be me. I'm going to fall in love with calculus every Tuesday and Thursday morning. I'm going to read books and spend days trying to process their majesty. I'm going to be a staunch little girl, retreating to the wisdom and encouragement of my parents on a daily basis, even when they're halfway across the world. I'm going to choose who to give my heart to, hopefully, with more and more discernment. I'm going to expect too much of the world and its people and watch my heart break every time it disappoints. Not because it's particularly popular or even healthy somedays, but because I don't want to look back and sense a compromise of the self I've been taught to value and love. 

Today, someone told me that they loved my energy and the way I pick up on small things and laugh (specifically during church services). Although we can talk about whether or not it is proper to laugh during church (I personally believe that God is a great proponent of laughter in His house), I want to talk about why I laugh wholeheartedly when my soul is otherwise downcast. Because, why the heck not? There are lots of weird, quirky people on this planet who do endless weird, quirky things, providing you with ample fodder for witty commentary. There is entirely too much reason in this world to laugh. And there are endorphins or something scientific.

 So, no answers, no grand declarations, no harmony of mind, heart and soul. Just dissonance. Dissonance within and without myself. And endless Billy Joel songs. Seriously, Billy, GET OUT OF MY HEAD. This world is cruel to those who hope and dream for fulfillment. So, I'm keeping my head down, letting my wounds heal and stretching a hand out to heaven for the strength and grace I cannot dredge up. 

Just read/listen to the lyrics to Vienna about a thousand times…

"Slow down, you crazy child…" - Billy Joel