5/23/2024
When I think about love I get two very conflicting feelings
Both equally as intense
I think of love in the ways I think about the ocean
A brief passing thought, is just above the surface
Distant enough to miss all of its flaws
But close enough to take in the joy of its beauty
If I think of it too long, I become terrified of it’s depths
I fear all the things that hide underneath the surface
I’ve always loved being in the water
As a little girl I imagined what my life could be like if I was just a plain old fish
How simple and free it could feel to have the whole ocean
I’ve always sought out water for it’s cleansing properties
Something about it always makes me feel a little less messy
A little less dirty…
I would swim out as far as my little legs could get me
Far enough to not hear the people by the shore
For a moment, it’d find silence
I could float and disappear
Pretend that I was a plain old fish
Then the intrusive thought would enter
“What’s beneath me?”
Curiosity would lead me to think of all the things I’ve read in books about marine life
Suddenly, I’d feel exposed, vulnerable, even under attack
I’d lose contact with its beauty and frantically swim back to the shore
But once I’d get there I’d feel the ocean calling back
The waves hitting my feet, pushing and pulling
Even with this fear, I desire to be consumed by it
If I could love the wrong person so deeply…
Imagine if I found the right one?
5/3/2024
...You spend so much of your life in fight or flight. Anticipating the next knockout and doubting not only your capabilities but your worth. The voices consume all the hope and suck the air out of the room. I have a few wires crossed- it's the cost of my experiences... of my wounds. I've spent so much of my time in spaces being unwanted, discarded, used up, and spit out. Being the "thing" that gratifies your needs was the highest status I could attain...and at my worst, trash.
I still find myself frustrated with Her at times, but more often than not, I'm stuck wondering how anyone could've ever hated Her or ever wanted to cause Her any harm. How could someone look at Her innocence as something they were entitled to? Why would they desire to break Her? I don't ask those questions expecting I'll ever find the answer. I think it's a good sign I can't understand it... because I'm nothing like them. I know destruction, but I choose to cause no harm. And although I've been infected with evil, I choose to heal.
I'm fighting to find peace within myself. This delicate balance of fixing something I didn't break. The peace I do have today is worth everything I lost to get here. A good friend described the return of the shadow as a relapse, an addiction. I'm addicted to abusing myself. It's the only way I've learned to relate to myself and anything outside of it feels...unnatural. So much so, that I can't comprehend why others love me. Who could love trash? Why would you love it?
I'm like a cat with 9 lives. Always landing on my feet somehow. I don't keep track of the lives- not sure where the count currently rests, but it feels like multiple... The shadow always lingers in the background. Just waiting for the most opportune moments to remind me of the worst moments of my life. All my senses reenact the experiences like it's some fucked up version of my favorite 4DX movie.
The shadow inevitably comes back but today. Today, I'm louder than all the other noise. At the very least, today serves as a bridge. Buys me time, until the next relapse hits. Maybe it's the few crossed wires, but for that, I'm grateful.
4/27/2024
“I’m really glad you exist”
The sand storm settled
My eyes sweep across the horizon
I take in it’s stillness….
But, something in me shifted in that moment
I turned to meet his gaze
Part of me was thinking he might of been referring to someone else… to something else
There’s a mark on my soul
Like the soft spot on a newborn’s head
Meant to be protected so that it heals…
I carry the mark of a missed step
I’ve been playing his words over and over in my head
Over and over the feelings moves through my veins
I am wanted
Wanted by him
I know he loves me. I know because I feel it
But more than that, he sees the scars and open wounds
Without even understanding he chooses to accept them graciously
He finds them loveable and he doesn’t miss a moment to let me know
He fidgets using my hands
He requests my compression hugs and rests his head in my lap
He demands to be around me…
I’d be missed by him if I didn’t in fact, exist
4/9/2024
Maybe the point is all this is... proof
Evidence to what I've been saying
That things don't come easy to me despite what others say
To prove that I worked hard for the things I've accomplished
This narrative that, “things come easy” to me
That I have to check my brain privilege
That I'm "just more mature"
Countless times I've had this conversation
Like this is something I stumbled upon
Giving the credit of all my work to chance
I was born shitting and crying like everyone else
Actually, I wasn't breathing
So maybe you could say I started this race a couple breaths behind
My life experiences taught me maturity
And sometimes I think, "I'd gladly trade the cost of this for ignorance"
I exposed myself to new things
I teach myself
I research, I read
I learn how to do things for myself and when I don't quite get it-I try again
I built this brain
And I don't say this in a cocky way
It's by no means is, “the best” out there
That's my point
I did all these things all the while also heavily killing my brain cells
Self-sabotaging and quitting
Hating myself and often contemplating a way out
I try not to ask unhelpful questions like, "Why?"
But rather, "What am I supposed to gain from this? What can I use from this?"
And I'm thinking, "Here it is..."
Here's the proof
That I wasn't born this way
And sometimes no matter how hard you train and prep
You will keep checking that 6ft wall
Until maybe one day.... you clear it
3/28/2024
As I pull the cork out, I awknowledge how much I have compartmentalized in the recent months
I’ve been holding my breath….
Sometimes it works pretty well
I thought I’d pull through
I couldn’t recount all the times i’ve been a shell of a person and have managed to just get shit done
It's not about my abilities
There’s no choice…
I’ve learned to function this way
Not understanding who I was or where home was
I’m tired of being the wounded friend
The wounded relative or coworker
There has to be others like me
No matter how hard I run…
I somehow find myself at the starting line…
The noise is at max volume and I can awknowledge they were coming for me
I tried my best to fight them off
To be clear, my best may not be yours
I’m exhausted with trying to keep this image up
We all have mess
And maybe mine is less socially acceptable or hard to look at, i dont know… but it’s mine
It got me this far… no?
It took some time to digest
I saw it in her face
The look of pity…
I hate that look but I told myself I was wrong in that appraisal
When I opened the sheet of paper, I was disappointed at how accurate my reading was
I guess I just moved
I don’t know if there was a thought or feeling
I text him immediately because I couldnt call him
He was expecting the call…
And I wanted to call but with great news. My pride couldn’t face whatever reaction was waiting on the other end
The hopeful and supportive energy
The encouraging words of second chances
And I don’t mean to invalidate this support
I’ve been in those shoes too
What can you say?
I just mean it’s pebbles being thrown at the demon that lives in me
Does nothing…
No one’s louder than the demon
At first, I think there may be an objective way to see this
Maybe someone who understands this process can launch more of a boulder at what’s spreading…
Quickly I realize i’m alone with the demon
There is no one else
There never was or will be
This is my fight
And one I quiet honestly, couldn’t give two shits about right now
So I walk right in front of the demon
I lay on my back and beg for the ending…
I did the deep breathing
The tapping, rocking, and reframing
It doesn’t work
Not always…
And I suppose this makes me feel more like an imposter when I sit across people trying to enforce these skills
It could work for some but I know all to well-
Sometimes…
You’re just fucked…
I get it, but how do you tell a client that?
Sometimes the only way to care for yourself is getting loaded
And yes, I don’t want to encourage this in someone else but in me, it just quiet honestly fucking works
My breathing slows down as I focus on sweet taste, the heat
The tears stop and I can feel the muscles in my face relax
Leaving behind the throbbing
I don’t intend to hurt others
I don’t intend to take you with me
I hear my father crying and I can’t help but feel disappointed in myself
Feeling your son look for the right reaction in this situation… even in this state I couldn’t make myself better for him…
I can’t look at them…
The thought gets louder
So does my desire
I’m exhausted
3/25/2024
I run out the door
I’m done for the day but it feels like running away
I gasp for air as I make it down the stairs into my car
I notice my hands shaking…
The dryness of my cheeks
I’m not entirely sure of why I’m running…
When I get home everything falls to the ground
The burn in my stomach soothes my restlessness
I ran to disappear
The darkness returns
At max volume, I’m forgetting the reason I live…
The water is boiling
My skin instantly turns red on contact
I grind the coarse material over my body
The burning slows my breathing…
Like roots, it begins to reach out and consume every inch of my body
I wish I could say, “I can handle this”
But I don’t always know if I can survive it
Sometimes, like today I don’t want to
3/18/2024
“Avoid it at all costs”
The discomfort in my body increases as I ignore this warning
There has always been this urge, this itch to break the rules
The thoughts and feelings came flooding in
I tried to drown them out
I’d say I’ve been successful
There is a large part of me that’d love to stay here
It’d be easier in it’s own way
Like death
I can’t remember if I was born with this feeling or learned it along the way
Feeling ready for death…
The instinct is clear, natural
I suppose the urge to break the rules applies here too, so I stay
She has come back into my life in a way I didn’t expect
Although I was the one who opened the door-
I find myself resisting the consequences
The memories…
I’m in this constant state of irritability
Full of anger, rage, and hate
Lately, it hasn’t ebbed and flowed
I remember what it’s like to want to set the whole world on fire
To want to see the destruction that lives in me elsewhere
Over time you learn to function despite the poison that invades your being
You learn to live with the ghosts that plague your mind
You get use to screaming and realizing everyone around you is deaf
Feeling like no matter how hard and how loud you scream, no one can hear you
Your suffering does not exist, YOU do not exist
I work to learn the sign language
Only to discover, ah- they’re blind too
I’m trapped in this box
Surrounded by people
And not one knows who I am
3/6/2024
(Dream)
I’m in my own home- it’s inherited
Feels like I’ve had it before…
Other people’s things are here
Furniture…I focus on this vase with flowers
I touch the wood table top its on and it falls over
This vase is also electic and plugged into an outlet
I attempt to keep the electricity from ruining it by tilting it… holding it up
The water gets in the plug and I drop it
It begins to spark and fast
I scream hard for my dad
He comes and sees it
I ask how to stop an electrical fire
He tired with his hands but it’s melting…
He goes for water and I ask if that’s a good or bad idea
I scream even louder as it melts the table it was on
I want it to stop and I’m scared
It burns a hole through the ground
He says something like, “good luck with that now”
I collapse to the floor
I feel completely hopeless
I scream, “i can’t do this anymore!”
I wake up
2/29/2024
I move through my days
My life, with weight of echoes on my back
I carry them from place to place
She stays with me, comes with me wherever I go
I add the weight of the days to the sack
The heels of my feet sink into the earth below me
I’m trying to find the balance and stamina
I struggle to find things to lean on
I seek anything that can help me take, “just one more step”
2/27/2024
(Dream)
I’m behind the scenes at the Dodger stadium
I go into the interview room with ****
We both are being recorded
My mom comes with someone else
Someone from her job
Suddenly, **** is gone
It’s time to leave
I feel sleepy on the ride home
My mom and the female sit in the back seats
I fall asleep in the passenger seat
I fall towards him and wake up as he tries to slide his hands down my pants
We struggle and he pulls over
He won’t stop
And I ask him to
He says he has to
I explain that I don’t see him that way
Somehow we are outside my parent’s home
I run out of the car and feel him chase me
I see a daughter, son, and dad
I scream for help and tell them he is trying to rape me
The dad immediately takes it as a joke
The daughter walks away laughing to the car
The son is talking to the guy now, they’re friendly
The dad says I’m probably overreading the situation and thats not what he means
I keep saying, “I know…”
They all start to leave
I know the chase will commence
I wake up
2/23/2024
I find her gaze in all the noise…
The girl with the big blue eyes
Just like that, she pulls me out
Her voice soothes the aches
I feel her love in each phoneme
In every morpheme
The worry penetrates the tornado consuming me
She’s speaking to Her
She tells her all that hurts and where it hurts
I remain at a distance
Protecting myself from going under
I watch her nurture away the storm
And I think, “She’s going to be an amazing mother”
2/4/2024
(EMDR Session)
They say eyes are the window to the soul
I haven’t quite found myself yet…
The distance began yesterday
I have vague pieces, glimpses of memory
It’s black, blocked out
She asked me to be curious
I can’t single out a thought or feeling
They all came flooding in
My mouth became numb
My lips were gone, they still are
The state of nothing took over
Everything was slow and fast, all at once
I find myself in this daydream but have no control
Life feels like the dream
I walk over to the mirror
There is something about my eyes that scares me
I don’t feel scared but I think somewhere in me, it’s there
I don’t know who this women is
Why is she in my bathroom?
I wondered, “Is this what I look like?”
I surrendered to the curiosity
Her eyes stand out to me
There is something empty about them
Something heavy
I don’t know how eyes could look heavy
But hers did
They seemed worn, tired
Sad
This women is hiding something behind her eyes
I introduce myself, “hi”
The acoustics don’t match what I understand to be the limits of this space
I suppose I’m not the one speaking
The details of her eyes are extremely clear or blurry
There is no middle as the focus moves in and out
The rest of her seems like a movie prop
No depth, dimension
It’s flat, no life…
Her eyes are different and I keep watching
Maybe there is something she needs to say
Why I’ve spent so much time running from mirrors all my life seems so much clearer…
1/24/2024
Sometimes the buzzing of the fluorescent lights becomes a migraine
The blood vessels in my eyes pulsate
My jaw aches and lacks mobility
My hands tremble over my erratic heart beat
Closing my eyes makes the room spin
Opening them feels like forcing a strained muscle
I’m overwhelmed, sure
Feeling all my feelings so deeply is incredibly heavy when you’re this sad
When you can feel other people, even when they’re not around it’s… torture
Is this the cost of loving another?
Or, is it the cost of being loved?
1/19/2024
The emotions depicted on the screen ignited a memory
Memories I should say, emotions
Her emotions became mine
My heart rate increased as they connected with experiences of my own
I’ve had this fight many times
With many lovers
The most painful were those with the man I loved
With him, I stayed in the argument far longer than I should’ve
I suppose I was hoping he’d find his way to me
Arguments always began with a grievance of something I was doing or not doing
Sometimes focused around work and aspirations
Others around my personal outlets and connections
There was something I was missing
Something I wasn’t doing enough of
I was being greedy
Taking far too much time for myself and my endeavors
No compromise was ever enough
It was never explicitly said
But when every compromise is shut down,
The only option left is my sacrifice
The sacrifice of the things I’ve fought to keep for myself
All of it
The air smelled of contempt
The look on their faces like my mother’s
Expressing their distain of all that I’ve taken from them
I’m not like the woman on the screen
She’s clear and expressive of what I was afraid to say out loud
Of what, if I did try, only immediately took back
He complained of my ever changing schedule
Ever changing plans, transitions, and new goals
As if we shared the same bank of time
Like he didn’t have his own to deplete from
What I did with mine somehow left me forever indebted to him
I was taking his time
There are 24 hours in a day for each and every one of us
What we choose to do with this time is ultimately our choice
Sometimes we are pressured to do with it as others believe
But truly, it is our choice
He had 24 hours like I did
They all had 24 hours
He expressed disgust for his career
I never forced him to stay
But he said he stayed to see me, to finance me
He sacrificed time from his bank to see me
Spent his checks on me
I grew resentful of all of it
I never asked for this
Gifts have never been my love language
I encouraged his dreams as he expressed them
But then I was too pushy
I admit I grew tired of the narrative
His requests for pity became a nuisance
I wanted it to stop
Go, stay, I don’t care! But pick one and leave me out of it
He blamed me for his choices as a father
He always carried shame and guilt about the end of his marriage
At first, she was to blame
Then it was his family
But quickly, I became evil too
I was the reason for his choosing of an incompatible partner
Of his family pressure to marry and stay married
Of his choice to advocate for his happiness
I ruined his life
His generosity allowed him to relinquish responsibility
He eventually protected his son from the evil
Us three in a room confronted his guilt
He was the projector and I the screen
Maybe I made it difficult for him to ignore his truth
He was selfless, sacrificing
Caring only of my happiness
As he simultaneously tore it apart
I didn’t want the transaction
I denied the projection
But somehow I found myself owing this man time from my bank
Over and over he brought it up
Always stating with, “I’m not trying to throw it in your face”
“I’m not keeping tabs”
He did in fact take inventory
What he valued and perceived were subjective
The price of an item assumed, never discussed
I hated the fighting
I hated how I felt
I’m not innocent, I harm others just like anyone does
I’m messy and complicated
As much as I try to be honest and transparent
I find myself in these arguments doubting my honesty
“Could I be wrong?”
I’d reach for affection and express love
His self-pity was too loud to hear me
He’d shut down and I felt rejected
He grew unattractive
I saw he had no accountability, no desire for honesty
No mercy for me as a partner
He’d complain about the little time he had with his son
I’d offer up my time
This compromise wasn’t the answer
It made me cold and uncaring
I needed to understand that he would always be sad about his lack of time
His time was split between him and his son’s mother
And that nothing could be done about his pain
I couldn’t possibly understand because I had so much more time
I couldn’t understand how his helplessness was my doing
I had 24 hours, no more, no less
He denied wanting to try with her again
I begged him to
I sought out couples counseling for them
His happiness and my freedom were my greatest desire
He made it impossible to attain them
Maybe then he could let this unresolved fantasy go
And I could stop being the villain
His son grew attached to me
Maybe he didn’t like this as much as he thought he would
Maybe reality wasn’t as good as the fantasy
Could we please stop having conversations about past choices and wasted time?
We were wasting time having these conversations
I knew it, and I wanted him to know it
We were missing new opportunities and spending hours of our banks for what?
He needed to be a victim and I needed to be the forever remorseful offender?
Was I just meant to serve a sentence for s crime I didn’t commit?
Or was my crime the fact I never married or had children?…
He went back to school and failed the program
It was my fault for pushing for change
He stayed at the department hating the culture
It was my fault for no longer brainstorming options about leaving
He demanded justice
Wanted what he was owed
But I didn’t own what he had lost
It was never about me, it was never with me
He was scared, doubtful of himself
I always knew he was smart and creative
I wasn’t in need of convincing
He expressed having no choice
Being trapped in this dynamic for life
And I was the only good in it
He created this hole
He kept digging as he yelled up at me for choosing not to jump in with him
And maybe, as a partner I should of
But I’ve dug myself out of my fair share of holes to ever voluntarily jump into another not of my own making
He attacked my morals
That I was cold, selfish, heartless
He objected my perspectives
I never compromised and he resented it
But I did compromise, I just didn’t sacrifice…
He had grievances about my personality
Conflicting ones
He loved me for my honesty, but grew annoyed of my desire for transparency
He loved that I cared for others so deeply, yet felt jealous as if my love was a commodity
This scarcity mindset broke us
He picked me because he wanted it
But now couldn’t own it was what he picked
I refused to pity him
To see him as a victim of his own choices
“I refused to rot inside!”
I have been a visitor of all these places
I fought to get out of them
Why was I so evil for refusing to go back?
Life will inevitable take my back, why volunteer?
Was it so wrong to refuse enabling this victim mentality?
Perhaps I was cold
I loved him, truly
He complained about a life that he chose
He expressed generosity and portraited an image of selflessness
But he did these things to claim his innocence
So were they merely generous gestures?
I didn’t need a martyr
I didn’t need him to sacrifice himself
He watched from the sidelines
His expectations and perfectionism held him back
He was scared of his own potential and quit before ever having to risk failing at something
Why was I to blame?
I couldn’t understand the overwhelming feeling then
Sometimes, these discussion would lead to panic attacks
I’d attack myself, destroy myself
Only then would he show mercy
The more he did this, the less I loved him
The less I trusted him
I accept it was my choice to stay
It was familiar to be someone’s punching bag
To be to blame for someone’s unhappiness
Forever cursed to be the villain for simply existing
I’m no longer willing to be the screen someone projects on
1/15/2024
The tension roams deep within my chest
My hands are the only sign of what’s occurring beneath the surface
I plea for forgiveness
I suppose, from myself…
I think it’s fear but I’m unsure of what
Am I afraid to love what I soon may lose?
Am I still healing from this bruise?
My mind and body feel heavy
But they run restless this early morning
I’m desperate to find the cause
Then maybe, these demons will set me free
I’m afraid of the magic being gone
I think…
It may be harder to reach me now
I’m struggling to understand why
I might be afraid of never loving with fear again
The cost is high
But I suppose the ride is worth the risk
Something within me no longer moves
1/11/2024
I wish for someone to see me…
Carefully watch as my imagination gets the best of me
My mind is creative, you could say
Developing elaborate potentials of harm I struggle to keep away
It cultivates foreseeable threats
I refuse to add to my list of regrets
Sometimes it’s laced with the echoes of the past
All versions of Her, left aghast
Have patience as I find my way back
My world has been colored in black
1/7/2024
(EMDR Session)
“Let it go"
She says it over and over
I feel the tension of resistance
I’m holding my breath
I want to let it go
I’m telling myself to let it go, but I can’t…
There’s a part of me denying me access
Withholding permission
“I’m tired”, I tell her.
The fear moved down my spine
I notice the headache and pressure behind my left eye
The heat of violence builds between my legs…
A cramp attacks my left foot
The physical pain echoes pieces of a memory
I can’t
She helps me back as I rock and tap
I swear I’m trying, so hard
I’m doing my best
Please, please make it stop