...And then it was too much.

I have come to the very obvious realization that change is not something that merely happens- and even as one gradual process fades out, another one begins to slowly mold itself together. I really am starting to see this idea take form in my life lately. I am not the same person I was a year ago, even a month ago before I left my home in the States to be here in Spain. Of course I don't notice each new mannerism I pick up or the FADING of my apparently strong Michigan accent I came here with.

It is only when I stop what I'm doing, literally, and fully grasp what my life as become.
Here, just as I do back home, I surround myself with things to keep my mind, my hands, my mouth, my eyes busy. My planner is always full, my phone always ringing, and I like it like that; I enjoy a busy life. 

The only issue with maintaining that lifestyle here in Sevilla is that I am missing the bits and pieces that I pass by each day because I am in such a hurry to get somewhere always. And thus, because of this, I am also not realizing how beautiful the change is in my life- how amazing such a short amount of time can alter my mindset, free my prior irrational inhibitions, and allow me to see things with an entirely different light than ever before. 

The reason I am saying this very redundant and simple statement- that change is gradual and you don't notice until you stop and smell the roses, or whatever- is because I had some kind of moment the other day that I can't seem to explain properly. So, again, allow me to share feelings that words just ruin in my attempt: 

Since I had arrived in Spain and until very recently, I hadn't yet fully allowed myself the time or effort to process my emotions, my thoughts, my doubts. I was just living each day one single moment at a time, not thinking ahead or about what was behind me. Of course, despite me allowing these feelings to fall to the back, I was still aware at some level that they existed. Of course they did. They were there somewhere, surely.
I wandered around El Centro by myself again. I love doing this and it upsets me when people say they "don't know how" or "don't like" to spend time by themselves. Granted, I don't particularly prefer or seek out my own company, but it is nice to catch up once and a while. 

I got some Cappuccino ice cream, saw buildings and stores completely new to me despite my regular stroll down that very road just about every other day. Intuition or otherwise, something told me to go into the Cathedral. 

I stepped up into the doorway, and as per usual my breath literally escaped me. I allowed my eyes to wander, they traced around the ceiling, noticing the intense detail in the sculptures, and then down the rows of pews. All I wanted to do was to store away to memory the beauty in front of me. My feet took me up the center isle toward the main altar. I looked to my right and a tired-looking security guard sat observing patrons and tourists. I finally reached as far as I could toward the front and I spun around facing where I had just come from.
I felt guilty then for taking pictures the last time I was in there. I get so frustrated with cameras and pictures; they will never be enough. Never. 

A large (Asian, of course) tour group stumbled in the back doorway too loudly. They stood around with their stupidly large cameras around their necks. I could hear the Snap! Snap! Snap! of them taking stupid pictures of details that anything aside from the real thing would only be an injustice to its beauty. I could take a thousand pictures of the same thing and still never be satisfied, it could never be enough to capture it fully, to describe not only what I see, but what I feel as well. 

I turned back around, the tour guide to my back. The security guard and I made eye contact and I self-consciously looked away when I realized she witnessed me just standing completely still for however long it took for me to judge the tourists.
I did a lap around the outside of the pews, stopping at each altar, smelling, listening, doing everything I could to convince myself, even if not possible, that I would never forget these moments. Somehow I was back in the middle isle. Something whispered to me to sit down. So I did.
Those thoughts I talked about before, the ones that I have been pushing aside to deal with later finally came to a head that day in the Cathedral.
I could sense some kind of presence in my head; bitty thoughts started circling around the outside of my mind; slowly at first, then gaining speed. It became more than gradual, thoughts spinning then, words zooming by.
Then my head exploded with inner-dialogue. The thoughts raced. My concerns and fears bumped into one another. They all were growing, the voices getting louder, the thoughts getting bigger. There wasn't much room anymore. It wasn't all going to fit!
I didn't know how to stop the near-shouting in my mind. Then I heard familiar voices: my mom crying as she hugged me goodbye, my best friend calling me on the phone, stressing about work and school, my brother's laugh, my dog barking at the passing neighbors my cat purring while curled up on the couch.
All the voices started to melt together. They all grew louder, louder. Everyone was screaming then. It was like a large crowd at a football game. An indistinguishable roar of a sound. I couldn't pick out the individual sounds anymore, my head was going to explode, my skull was going to split open. It was painful then, the thoughts and words smashing against the inside of my head. I knew it would last forever, this would never end.
I became dizzy, I remembered where I was. But everything was fuzzy. The brilliant colors of the altar blended together like wet paint. I think I noticed my hands folded in my lap, but I can't be sure now looking back.
The roaring crowd in my mind grew bigger, stronger. It was unbearable.
I will die with this pain.
It will never go away.
Can anyone else hear them, surely someone can?
I felt like screaming myself.
The muscles of my face pull tight, my eyes squinting, my jaw clenching.
This will never end.

Then it did. My ears were ringing as they do after a live concert. My head was still vibrating from aftershock. I wiped a drop of perspiration from my forehead. Each individual muscle released and slowly found their ways home. I let my head tilt back and my shoulders drop. My eyes stayed closed and my lungs filled all the way up before I expelled a heavy breath. What. the. hell. just. happened.
I suddenly felt very alone, for the first time since I had gotten to Spain. In that moment I couldn't understand that other people even existed in the world; I was the only one for miles and miles.
I shivered- possibly from the chilly day.
I felt my neck relax, the tension in my back let up. Finally the booming in my head fizzled to nothing.

And then I cried. I don't know why, as the tears seemed to come from nowhere. They fell so easily. I opened my eyes, looking around, embarrassed; I was aware just then that I wasn't, in fact, alone. Everyone could see me crying. How ridiculous I must have looked.
I reached under my glasses to wipe the tears away. I stood up to leave. I wanted to go, I wanted to get out of there. But i couldn't. My body wouldn't move, it wasn't listening. My eyes filled again, a lot easier this time.
I do not know what happened, or why it did, but I let my guard down completely that day in the Cathedral. I cried and cried. I sobbed a sad cry. I cried for my family, hoping they were doing alright. I wished I could be there while they needed me. I cried for my best friend and how sad I felt that she couldn't be here with me. I cried for my friend whose dad recently passed away. I cried for everyone in my life. The bawling wouldn't stop. Finally frustrated with my glasses sliding down my nose, I held them in my hand, all while continuing weeping.
In intervals, I would wipe my face, clearing away rouge mascara and evidence of my breakdown. Each time, though, it would just start up again. Eventually I gave in and stopped trying to contain it. I literally wept out loud, my head in my hands, hunched over in the pew. I sniffled, I chocked, I whimpered. It must have been quite a mess to watch.

I thought maybe at most 10 minutes had passed since sitting down. I was proven very wrong when I looked at my watch.
50 minutes.
Almost an hour had gone by while I crumbled in the most beautiful Cathedral in the world.

Becky says this presence I felt: the whisper telling me to stay and to sit, the overwhelming feelings I couldn't control- she said that was God. Another friend simply said that it was really weird that something like that happened to me.
I don't know yet what I think happened.
I assume I had reached my threshold of emotions- good, bad, sad, and ugly. I think I literally needed to explode. This makes sense, because it was later that week that Intuition carried me to Plaza de España. Maybe I wouldn't have been able to feel all the passion and excitement I did if I hadn't gotten the release at the Cathedral that day.
It is a bit of a fault that I am physically and mentally hindered when I reach my limit.

Maybe I am immature and just too easily excitable or hypersensitive.
But I feel as though I am lucky that I feel as much as I do. I don't think many people in the world have as much fervor as I do for every single thing I see.