i wish i could feel anything for anyone other than visceral instinct.
i wish i could experience passion in sex again without just feeling like i have to provide myself.
i wish i could experience passion for anything.
for work.
for friends.
for myself.
for any of it.
i feel so fucking numb.
i can function but i feel so sad.
life has been so sad.
i hate having to handle this all.
from caretaking to caretaking
one after another
i am not ready for parenting
for geriatric care
for romance
for friendship
i don’t feel like the rewards outweigh the hard parts.
because the hard parts are so so SO much more present than the rewards.
the constant gripping sadness and anxiety
no relief
if i swam amongst mermaids and they told me to breathe through the gills i dont have, i would die. drowning surrounded by people that do not know that i am that different from them. assuming i can handle life the way they can handle life.
and i feel just the same here.
i don’t want love or parenthood or friends or family right now.
i want to exist alone and away.
how did depression sneak back up so fast
when all i’ve been going through has been SO easy.
two deaths in the family. mother and son less than 6 months apart.
a body boiling in a soup of pain and empty pleasure, there’s blood in the broth.
watching as each pebble eroded away from the one thing that felt stable. trying desperately to pack back the rocks after they’d fallen down and hurt me.
a job both fulfilling and disgusting and tiring and energizing.
realizing adulthood is hard and scary and i can’t keep running back from it without bottoming out.
i am breaking again
i am a simmering pot of oils and herbs that is a clean and well studied practice.
he is the potions made of dirt and sticks and leaves from our childhoods.
we are composed of two very different types of purpose and experience and life and yet we are both magical to those who see us as such
crinkled aluminium foil with the memories of a million people
my heart knew in that moment that the world is big but that there is nothing to fear
i am eager to share and dance in whirls of memories with everyone i meet
to remember the people that have helped install another little piece of me that will help hold me together for years to come
i am me, i am a patchwork of other people who are patchworks, and i get to choose how to arrange that big, beautiful quilt.
I think that my patience has grown. Patience with myself. Patience with others. I used to journal with such intensity and frequency on here and I guess at the time I felt it was an outlet to an audience of everybody and nobody, at the same time. I could speak to a body of people who understood the manipulation and abuse I was experiencing, and could vent in a place where none of my abusers would know how to find my words, even if they tried. But, as I’ve grown I think control has started to matter less to me in that respect of my life. I plan my daily calendar instead of planning revenge. I plan ways to improve my curiosity instead of ways to improve my fighting edge. I can confront the things I can’t control, and I can make a choice to have a dialogue internally about it. I could also choose to be sharp and lash out and be harmful, but it serves me less than half as well.
I’m really interested to see how my relationship with Tumblr continues to evolve.
They can be big or small, they can be casual or serious. Boundaries can be set in many ways and come in many shapes and forms.
All that matters, regardless of is that your boundaries are informed from your own internal intuitions and are coming from a true desire to nurture, honor, respect, protect, and heal yourself.
The primary intent of a boundary should always be a desire to honor what you feel will help you honor yourself. Boundaries do not dictate others, boundaries dictate our actions if others cannot honor what it is that we need out of a connection.
