If they wanted to they would.
But you have to show someone how to love you.
You have to love yourself before anyone else will.
But others will love the parts of us that we don’t.
You have to know your own worth.
But someone who truly values you doesn’t need to be told.
Love is patient.
But don’t keep waiting for them to love you, move on.
Words are important.
But their actions have to line up.
Love is unconditional.
But your presence is conditional.
Love isn’t supposed to be hard.
But relationships are constant work.
Inconsistency is a very hard thing for me. In words, in people, and in life in general.
The world is full of mixed messages, especially in every single piece of advice or ‘wisdom’ that’s hurled through various forms of communication and media.
Plenty of fish in the sea and soul mates and twin flames and infinite love.
These things are somehow supposed to be universal and not a one size fits all.
Because no one knows what the fuck they are actually doing, but it’s better to make shit up than to just admit where you are I guess.
I’m exhausted by all of it.
I started re-reading my journal over the new moon in Capricorn. It’s not even halfway filled. I started it when burning bowl went digital so I could look back on my lists as needed for the things I wanted in the coming years.
I wrote down my ambitions, my hopes, my dreams. I wrote down lists of things I wanted and needed in a relationship before I was back in one. I wrote actual journal entries when I only had that available and needed to get the thoughts out of my head.
A few months ago I wrote a list of things that I would need in an ideal world to recover from this soul aching level of burn out that I can’t seem to escape.
In someways the whole thing feels like fiction. I would say a fairytale but I’ve been living the first 60-80% of a fairytale most of my life. The hardships, the lessons, and just keep going attitude with the smallest threads of hope keeping me warm.
It makes me sad. Looking at all the things I thought I could accomplish each year. The things I haven’t managed. It makes me sad to see how much I still compromise and just stop asking for. How often I don’t get the rest I desperately need and deserve.
I had a stray thought today. That I romanticize so many small things, because too few people have ever loved me out loud.
February is edging closer, and I feel the emotional scars itching and aching.
I’ve already started figuring out the things to do for myself, to remind myself that not all love is romantic love. To treat myself the way that I want and need to be treated even if it would be really nice for someone else to do it for a while.
I have a photo shoot scheduled with one of my favorite photographers for a confidence boost and to remind myself I’m a beautiful badass to start off the month.
I’m going to make sure to get myself chocolate strawberries this year.
I’m going to buy myself flowers as often as I want them and not feel guilty for a single one.
February will also be the month that teapot and I refocus our sessions. This week is the last one for the foreseeable future that we’re going to focus on the polystruggles. There was one last subject I wanted help on before I told her I needed a break from giving that so much focus.
She gave some thoughts on how to work on reclaiming the relationship in our last session. We spent a lot of time talking and figuring out my boundaries, needs, and wants. I’ve communicated as much as I can about all of those things, and tried to meet people where they are. But that’s hard to do when they keep changing it.
I tried and I’m tired.
Maybe I’ll finish writing one of my books. Live vicariously through my characters. That’s what most of them are anyways. Fractions of self inserts. Things I thought would be nice to experience in some way.
Sometimes I really wish I wasn’t demisexual.
Don’t mind me. Just in a spiral of self pity.
Feeling terribly lonely.
At the very least I’ll go start to read a romance book tonight. I’m sure that won’t make me feel worse at all.
The Procrastinating Penman 