Your Actual Love Language

There’s this new trend going around, about how your actual love language is whatever your previous relationships lacked. Since most algorithms have figured me out at this point I’m on the side where all those trends point to only one thing:

Basic human decency.

It’s not wrong.

This past weekend was my first ever trip/weekend away with Rochester. It wasn’t something we had been able to do in V1, because we weren’t actually ever allowed to be in a full relationship then. Neither one of us was healed enough at that point, still being steeped in multiple abusive relationships (work, romantic, etc) to have stronger boundaries about that either.

This weekend we went to Portland. A place both of us have always liked, but didn’t get a chance to really have freedom to experience in our previous relationships.

Pretty sure it was the first time a partner took me away for the weekend, where I didn’t have to do any of the big planning, like hotel and flights, and didn’t have to book any of it, or split/pay for the whole thing (I did keep asking if I could pay for some of the things we did, and we started trading off there).

He made sure we were close enough to Powell’s that I could have as much time as I wanted there, and we talked about and picked all the food places we wanted to go to together. We had a really good balance and respect of prioritizing things that were important to each other on this trip.

It was also the first time I have ever flown first class.

It was a really lovely weekend.

It was perfectly imperfect, and I wouldn’t change it for anything.

I woke up one morning feeling really off emotionally, and tried to handle it with the tools I’ve been picking up in therapy while he was still asleep. Accidentally, caused a trauma release instead. He woke up to me being a mess, and just jumped into trying to help me before even being fully awake.

I kept finding myself saying thank you, and saying how much I appreciated those type of things. We’d then have discussions on past partners, and how they usually reacted, and he’d remark that the bar was really low.

Yeah, it is or was.

The bar isn’t low anymore, and I don’t know how to express this. That just because I will say, “ I appreciate you for this or that”, doesn’t mean the bar is low, and you should stop at asking how I’m doing or holding me when I’m dealing with a PTSD episode.

It means I know what it’s like to not be appreciated. It means that part of who I am, is recognizing kindness and acknowledging it, because all too often people take it for grant it. Especially partners in my experience and from what I have observed from others in relationships (especially poly/ENM) it will just start to expected and they think they have a right to being treated that way no matter how they treat the other person. Or other people in general.

Sometimes it even gets to the point that those of us outside the monogamous/escalator model will let more and more slide from a partner that is not treating us appropriately because we can be distracted by our other connections, and we guilt ourselves into not comparing. I was so good at excusing being treated poorly in my past, because I could get my happy hit off of smaller moments of when that partner did actually decide to be sweet, or just from seeing a different partner who respected me just a little bit more.

I used to to tell myself if I just kept being kind to them, if I just kept modeling the behavior, one day they would put more effort into our relationship. One day they would be kind to me on a more regular basis. My kindness is no longer used as a way to try and teach others how they should be treating me.

My kindness is a privilege and has an expiration date if/when someone shows me they are not capable of receiving it.

That doesn’t mean I start to treat them poorly, I treat them accordingly.

But more of a tangent before I get back to the happy thoughts and highlights.

One of the things we did this weekend, was that Rochester wanted to watch the movie The Menu with me. He had already seen it but I hadn’t, and I don’t mind and tend to ask to be a too (which I admit, I made an assumption that it was both our first time watching it, and to his credit he noticed the shift in me and asked if it was still ok to watch it together. Expressing that he still wanted to watch it with me). I don’t want to give any spoilers, but it definitely kicked me right in my internal sense of justice. I have a very big problem with entitlement and lack of appreciation.

It’s made me think more on how I use the word “deserve”. I think many people use it, but oft times what they’re actually trying to say is that they are owed or entitled to something. When I say I deserve something, which is a concept I’ve only recently been trying to embrace, it is not saying that I am owed anything. It is, however, saying that I know my worth, and I am no longer willing to accept being treated as if I don’t.

I work hard. I am a kind person, and not just when people are looking. There is not much in life that I could ever claim has been handed to me. I have had difficult learning experiences, and have used them to become healthier, softer hearted, instead of bitter and cold. Part of me feels that if I use the word deserve, as many others do, then I would become bitter and hard hearted if those things don’t appear in my life. Especially on some imaginary timeline we all seem to be following.

Ok, pulling up from the spiral now.

Inadvertently, the theme of this weekend became s’mores, and I kind of love that. I love that we found some phrases and jokes that just belong to us. We had some amazing food experiences. Like, one place hit me so hard in the comfort food, I left pretty much a 100% tip. That is not me looking for any sort of praise or commentary, I just really need the world to know how fucking amazing the food was at Grits N Gravy.

I do wish I had taken some pictures of Rochester and I together. We don’t really have too many of those from V1, and I’m pretty sure we haven’t taken any together in V2. Asking for them feels complicated for me though, and I don’t won’t to ever pressure anyone into anything. I did take some pictures of the foods we had. Mostly to brag to my brother, and I didn’t take them of everything. It was nice to just experience the weekend together instead of spending a bunch of time trying to snap a shutter.

The trip back wound up being fairly traumatic for me thanks to the TSA triggering me. I don’t feel like going into detail at this point, but needless to say it left me fairly non verbal for the rest of the night, trying to keep my brain quiet, and constantly crying off and on the whole way home after we finally got through security.

I’m still struggling really hard today from it. But I am grateful that Rochester didn’t push me to be anything, and let me process how I needed to. He made sure I knew he was there for me, and stayed calm at the times that I got a little more snippy. I did eventually ask to stay with him for a little longer before driving home, so we cuddled on the couch and he read to me.

I already miss the things most nesting partners probably never think too hard on. I miss having our routines before we got into bed. I miss our wind down conversations, and being pulled into being the little spoon because that’s how we tend to fall asleep together. I miss waking up with him, being greeted with a smile, a sleepy good morning, and getting pulled into even more cuddles to start our days. I miss feeling safe and sleeping more soundly, and knowing that if I don’t, he’s there to help me through the nightmares.

I am grateful for the time we have together. I’m excited that we kept talking about “in the future” or “the next time we’re here”. Things that are normal for most other relationships, but that we hadn’t had the chance to ever experience together before.

I’m sure there was more I had wanted to say, but I didn’t sleep much last night and my mind is starting to do last call.

Some pics below of the foods:

Our first breakfast at Grits N Gravy

The LOTR special edition that I really wanted to bring home but could not justify $250

Pretty tree at the Festival of Lights. I really wanted to ask Rochester to take a pic with me under it but then the trauma voices got too loud, so instead I just took this.

Weird Finds

Silly Games

Second Breakfast – so good we had to go twice

Dreams Talking Sense Now?

A few nights ago, maybe a week, idk, time is a construct. Anyway, I had a dream about finding a new place. It was the perfect place. Everything I had wanted when I move back out. But in the dream I was also next level stressed. I forced it to work. I could technically afford it but it was putting me back into a place of financial scarcity, which is one of the big things I’m trying to avoid.

I know that I can’t avoid it completely with trying to live in a place with just me and my dogs closer to my job, but I want to make sure I’m not financially harming myself like before. That I’m not having to make choices about bills over food. I do know that I am lucky enough to have always had people to make sure I was fed, but I would like to not be back in a place where that is needed.

Dream me was so fucking scared about passing up a place where I could be happy, I threw my plan out the window, because I told myself my mental health was more important than my financial health. I am unfortunately, still in a situation where it will be an “or”. I don’t make enough to have an “and” life right now.

It resulted in dream me having an emotional breakdown and being full of regret. Knowing that I hadn’t made the right decision and I should have just stayed longer and tried to pay more off before moving back out.

When I woke up I wasn’t happy about the dream. I wasn’t happy because I knew it was probably right. But I haven’t been looking at rentals for awhile now, as I knew it had started to develop into a type of emotional cutting.

I will get back to this, but spiderweb.

Yesterday, in my session with teapot I focused a lot on my stress about finances. About how I’m combating the voices other people planted in my head.

On Monday I had gotten a new tattoo. It was not actually financially harming me by getting the tattoo. I had the money in a savings that I was using as a potential move out fund, but I also have a dedicated emergency fund that I do not touch for any reason. So while it was being set aside for a nice to get out quicker, it wasn’t super dedicated.

I planned to get the tattoo a few months back because I do tend to use them as a way of healing. Of marking significant changes in my life or to self express part of my story or pieces about myself that I don’t think most people see. I really loved this artists work and she happened to have a non repeatable flash available of a potion bottle. I’ve wanted one for a long time already, it felt like things lined up.

I left most of the creative freedom up to her on it. Ironically, she decided to color it very similar to a potion of healing, which definitely did heal something even more in me. I thought it was absolutely perfect to mark everything I have accomplished in the last year and how much more I will in the following. It’s a good reminder that no matter how strong I am, it’s ok to need help. It’s ok to reach for healing.

Up to the tattoo and all during it, I was fine and happy. Yesterday, I started feeling more sad and started hearing the voices telling me I was irresponsible. That money should have stayed there or should have been put onto one of my last two cards to pay them down even faster.

Then I would talk myself through the steps again, that I was in fact not financially harming myself. That doing things for myself are just as important as getting rid of debt or being more prepared to move out. That Wonder Woman and I had already established a time line to get the high interest card paid off, and that gave me time to work on that secondary savings again.

I remarked to teapot that it was weird, because the bad voice felt quieter in volume in general. Which I have been told/heard that the volume of the voice in your head can’t actually change. Like if you thought to yourself right now, I’m going to scream in my head, it wouldn’t sound any louder than if you were just thinking. So why was the voice that was “not mine” being perceived at a different volume? No, idea.

I told them that the thing that feels the worst right now is not the finances, but that I feel trapped. That it’s my lack of choice. I can’t just choose to move out without then inflicting that financial harm. So while my choice is not actually gone, it very much feels that way.

Add on the car repairs and the bills with the dogs health, and now potentially my insurance denying to cover my lab work. It’s been a lot again.

Getting back to the dream now.

For whatever reason, today I decide to look at rentals online. I found two really cute places that ticked off pretty much everything I wanted in a new place and they are even below current market value, which means they would make things easier financially. Not eating an entire check just on rent.

Impulse control issues wanted to message the listings right away. I didn’t want to miss out. What if something like this didn’t come back around by summer? What if I missed my chance? I started rationalizing that my mental and being in my own place was way more important and it’s fine: I’ve struggled my whole life, I could struggle again. It’s fine.

It’s fine.

Something I generally always say, when things are in fact not fine, but I’m trying to convince myself that they are or I can remove things from myself in order to make it fine. These are usually at the cost of my health and happiness.

Then I took a breath.

And closed all the tabs.

And remembered my dream.

Right now, is not the time.

It’s fine, is not a place I’m willing to go back to.

I bookmarked the one apartment that had a dedicated website, under a tab group that I don’t go to often. I can check their rates again when I’m ready.

Rent for other places might drop even more by then too, but no one can really know for sure on that one.

Part of me is still having a really hard time with having to go back into a rental at all. I know that home ownership isn’t a cake walk and lots of expenses too, but I’ve just really been needing a place that I can really be myself.

To an extent I get that in my room here, but honestly it was too small of a room when I was a teenager and it feels basically claustrophobic now. Especially with a good chunk of my belongings being inaccessible for the last 2 years, or not enough space in my room to do the things that would help more with my mental health.

While the dream sucked, it was a good a reminder today. One other thing I hadn’t thought about until therapy was the extra stress I will have with taking care of two very high needs dogs on my own again, while balancing the fact that I am also high needs.

Things aren’t great with mom, especially with her adjusting to me not being as affected by her anymore. But dad is still making positive change. Being here means I can be more aggressive with trying to pay things off. It means that I have other people to help me with the dogs on days that I just can’t manage to even take care of myself. It means when I need to move money around for unexpected bills I don’t have to worry about making rent or having food and gas.

It doesn’t feel like any situation is going to be truly ideal.

I just need to make sure that I am making comprises and not sacrifices, or causing myself more harm.

Roll for Initiative

Finally the traumatic holidays are done, but also not. I get a month break until we hit February for the next one.

New Years Eve comes with a lot of weird triggers. I’m proud of myself for making healthy choices this year. I’m trying to keep in mind that the right decision for myself does not always mean it will be pain free and that’s ok.

I know it’s still the midst of covid, even if most are starting to ignore it because they have the privilege of better health. I wasn’t expecting a bunch of invites or plans this year. Especially since my circle has become smaller and smaller. Honestly, I tend to not get invited to a lot of things. It’s a weird struggle with the AuDHD. The rules of, don’t invite yourself to things, but also trying to balance the very big feelings of rejection of not being invited. Ultimately, I had one quasi invite that wasn’t feeling emotionally safe for me, and another more last minute invite that sounded like what would be a more realistic ask for a need of connection with loved ones.

I had a very nice evening with my small group of people. Again, nom de blogs, need to double check them. Need to make a legend. The sparkle is real. Anyway, the friends that hosted, made an amazing meal. Lamb, and soufflé, and shrimp, and frickin homemade champagne on tap! Ugh. So amazing.

Part of me was struggling since Fridayish. I had been getting more time and attention with Rochester through text. Then things went a little more silent. Plus me trying to get things done to head out to dinner, there’s been a lot of passive aggressive things from mom. I know that was definitely making things louder. Luckily, I have spent the last few years healing. Once I was with my friends, for the most part the knot in my chest loosened.

I felt loved and seen.

It’s easy to overlook the little things. I often confuse people over how appreciative I am of things that most do not even give a second thought. When I got the happy new years text from Rochester, it meant a lot to me.

Then I made all my friends, their children, and my cousin (through text) roll initiative for 2023.

Most of my group rolled pretty low. I said out loud, let’s see if I can get higher than my tattoo. I did. It was a 2.

Later my cousin told me that considering all the healing I’ve been doing, I got to roll with advantage. And she’d send me bardic inspiration for an additional D10 (she sent links to Spotify songs). I even let her pick which set I rolled. I got up to a 13 total, and you know what? I’ll take it. Plus, Friday the 13th always tend to be lucky for me anyway.

I shared this with Sprinkles and she expressed that it felt poetic as far as how important support from others is.

I’m inclined to agree. I’ve been working harder the last few months of 2022 to reach out to my support system. It has really helped.

New Year’s Day, we were able to do our tradition of brunch again. It made me so happy. It was much smaller than it used to be, but that’s ok. Rochester was also able to come by, so I got time to geek out on YuGiOh with him, and cuddles once I was getting overstimulated with noise, and kisses.

Traffic back home was a bit tedious, but I made it back in time for the tail end of the virtual Burning Bowl put on by fairy gay mother and the pirate queen. I had done my lists and burning on Yule, but did work on my vision board cards that I plan to put up on my wall. One of Rochester’s friends had one and I want to try it. I mostly listened to the convos, but spoke up a few times. When I did I felt off though, like maybe I was being too aggressive, or speaking over others, or not paying attention to social cues in general.

Am now cuddled up under a heated blanket and a weighted blanket and a snoring chiweenie. The accompanying snores from Dad and the dulcet tones of an unmatched James Bond movie in the background, while texting a friend:

For the first time, in a really long time, I am feeling hopeful. It’s a dangerous feeling for me usually, but I am going to do my best to embrace it as much as I can.

Day 1 in 2023 has been good to me. May the rest of the days be the same or better.

Reader, I married him.

A line I found terribly romantic when I was younger, despite the fact that I have never been completely convinced on the notion of marriage. However, two people went through a bunch of hardships (unintentional harm?), separated, changed, and came back together. I found gave me hope considering the relationships that were being modeled around me. That imperfect people could still find companionship and love.

I have always felt imperfect and hard to love because I couldn’t ever meet the standards people told me too. We won’t talk about how those things kept moving, and that it wasn’t ever really me that they were interested in. That’s why I couldn’t ever be enough.

I’m even less inclined to the notion of marriage now. I suppose getting manipulated into one does that to a person, with a helping of 9yrs of emotional abuse.

This, however, is all a digression, but also still connected.

Spiderwebs, people, spiderwebs.

I have been thinking on this for a long time.

I was thinking of renaming this person. Thinking, new start, new nom de blog.

But then over the last few weeks I realized what an injustice that would be.

It’s not paying the proper respect to his/our past, and all the decisions he/we have made since then to learn and grow. How much we continue to choose to learn and grow. I feel like our past defined us only in the sense that it is a continued reminder to live a kinder life now.

If at some point he wants a new name on here, I will be happy to update it. This is just where my thinking lies for now.

There’s been other things recently too, that I have been hesitant about talking through or confirming my decisions, because I have been unable and unwilling to expend the energy I have to defend the choices I’m making to other people who are not even involved.

It’s important to me, to not be someone that is hidden. Which would make it unjust if I hid him. I have talked to him about the blog a little while ago, checking on boundaries, and he reassured me that he wants this to continue to be a place where I can freely speak and process.

Reader, my partner is Rochester.

And I am happy.

We reconnected, without any intention of getting involved again beyond friendship. But a connection was still there and we have decided to explore it. We’re both actively working on healing. As individuals. As partners. We’re both actively putting the work in on healing our connection.

Sometimes things still feel scary, or we deal with trauma triggers, but we have made the commitment to approach the new connection without fear, with honesty, and compassion. We also made a pact to kick each other to the curb if it ever becomes harmful to either of us or it becomes too much again, but like actually communicate it this time.

It’s important for me to let that out, because I want to be able to share my moments of joy as much as I share the hard things that I’m working through. I won’t edit who I’m spending my time with. Especially when it’s someone who has been accepting and supportive of me being my authentic self.

I know if I need to cry, he’s fine with it. He never asks me to feel or be something different. He’s been really accepting of all the things I’ve been dealing with when it comes to my mental health and navigating accepting those sides of myself.

Last night, after a hard day, I was able to take Rochester on a date. Which is still making me very happy today.

You know the cliche saying of someone lighting up a room? There’s something that lights up in me when I see him, especially after a bad day. I feel comfortable and can actually relax. It’s easier to smile and laugh.

And he’s teaching me how to make bread.

Facing the Trauma

The weird thing about facing trauma, is that sometimes it really does highlight how far you’ve come.

After the nightmare, Fairy Gay Mother sent me an email. She usually does. It’s one of the things in her very long list of things I like about her. The consistency is *chefs kiss*. Especially when I tell her I need something from her. Previous to posting the nightmare blog, I had replied to another email saying that I was in need of her words for that one.

And she delivered.

One thing that stuck out was, “maaaaaaaybe your trauma dreams are you wishing so hard they never happened, and reality pushes back, and says no, this was in fact a thing that happened”. So smart that one. Lucky our paths crossed when my life was crumbling.

It hit me in the feeling of truth and after a bit of a rough night of self soothing from several layers of hurt. Not in the hysterical crying sense, but the slow leak of tears that says something is in fact too much.

Decided then and there, that was the topic for therapy. I realized that even in my therapy sessions in past with other therapists, I skated around it. Never got into the full timeline and how it unfolded. This therapist is trauma focused though. Considering we only had an hour, I did still have to condense pretty heavily, especially since I had first talked about what led me to the decision to open up about it at that moment and her checking in that I felt safe to do so and wasn’t just forcing myself.

At about 15mins to the end of my session I started systematically shutting things down. Had to. Had to stop talking soon, and had to make sure I could without completely falling apart since I go right back to work after. Which I was honest with her about when she asked how I was doing and if there was anything I needed for closing. Nope. I’m good. I self induced numbness.

The rest of the week has been hard. Trying to turn the emotions back on. Problem with that being, other things creep in. The small reminders and pokes of trauma that happened after that. I was going to sleep really early, and sleeping in until I had to get up to take care of the dogs and work. I started spinning on old wounds about my body, because I could hear his voice, and every voice after it that said something was wrong with how I looked.

I turned that inward and started attacking myself for still not doing the things I said I would for myself.

It’s hard to be gentle with myself.

Today I had to say no to something. I could have left it at just saying my mom is sick (she actually is, waiting on covid test now, but we think it’s just a cold but better to be safe). Part of me wanted to hide behind that excuse. But I had just talked to them about something else that should have felt way scarier and wasn’t. There’s that growth I was talking about. So I was honest. It’s a rough week, mom is sick, the idea of this keyword with that keyword is bringing up too much trauma because it’s aligning to closely to when things happened without my consent in the same house. Ok maybe didn’t say that last part completely but the rest of it I did. And saying what I think would be healthier for me right now.

This week has just been a lot.

My trauma is a lot.

And I’m so very tired.

Back to the body hate that was happening, I did work on some emotional exercise worksheets today. I scooped up a web class from a trainer that was specific for people with trauma trying to get back to their fitness journey and how to navigate that. It was really helpful, but putting everything into practice is still going to be hard. Which the trainer said is normal and to just keep practicing to master your mindfulness and eventually it’ll be easier because the goals will only be about you and not everything that has been put into your head by others.

Some nights I wish I had real cuddles instead of squishmallows. But you work with what you got. Tomorrow I’ll try to get to the gym by myself. Try to be patient and understanding with myself. Try to just be in the day. Not the past or the future.

There’s just so much to undo from everything, it can feel really overwhelming at times.

Self care Saturday

CW – disordered eating

Self care is not all bubble baths and ice cream.

Monday I talked to my family about my disordered eating and that it was getting worse. When I was away for the weekend I thought for sure I’d start to eat. But I didn’t. And I had to face the fact that I was going to have to make a solid stance on things changing in my home environment.

Most of my life I have struggled with food. Not ever enough to get clocked by a professional. Plus the medical professionals tend to ignore fat or overweight people. If we’re fat it’s obviously that we eat too much, or don’t move enough, it very rarely crosses their minds that we’re not eating enough so our body is always in crisis.

Once my divorce was in motion, I had finally enough space to fix my relationship with food.

Heathcliff definitely pushed and supported disordered eating. I think we had gone one at least 3 diets and tons of calorie counting ventures. Even when I said it was becoming harmful for me, it endured, and I was shamed.

Before that I was in a relationship that constantly told me I was too far.

Before that I was shamed for being too skinny.

Before that there was always something wrong with my body.

Growing up, I struggled with my weight and was mocked at school and home. So being home, brought all of it up on a level that I was just pushing down deep and ignoring. Until I couldn’t anymore.

With moving back home and the state of the world. I started to struggle again. I would say more than once that I needed to eat differently while living here. But it never seemed to fully be heard. Which meant I leaned into the foods that weren’t good for me. Better to eat those, than nothing at all. Eventually that started getting too hard too. I needed assistance to even have an appetite, and would eat once a day and would have actual days of not breaking 500 calories and more than once a week.

But I was terrified.

Terrified because despite starving myself, I was gaining weight. I spiraled into panic of not gaining weight again. Especially not here.

Luckily I’ve been confronting my trauma.

So this time I sat them down. And I walked them through the amount of food I ate in four days to give them a solid example. I told them how my brain cycles through harmful things when I get to this place. I told them what I needed. I took most of it out of their hands. Just let me reorganize the fridge, put things that where it’s easier for my brain, buy foods that are safe for me. Help me maintain a clean fridge for two months. That’s it.

It made them uncomfortable, but they were surprisingly supportive.

All day today I worked on the hard self care.

I cleaned out the fridge. I bought and figured out containers for the fridge. I rearranged everything in there to make sense to my brain( which took a few shuffles). It took me nearly 2hrs. Then I went shopping for the better foods to put in there. Then back to actually make it work. Produce and fruits in plain sight. Safe foods in plain sight.

The way it looks now, makes my brain happy.

And I managed to eat 3 full meals today. It was hard, but I did it. I even cooked for myself.

I tried to move my body today too.

It wasn’t a lot. But it was more than before. And honestly weighted jump rope was probably ambitious for today.

I opted to make dinner tonight instead of ordering out like lizard brain wanted. I talked myself down with logic. Weird.

Then I settled in to finally start watching the Night Manager. It was my treat to myself but also a compromise. I could start watching it if I also started journaling my romantic relationship lists. Which was harder than expected. But I do have it started. Two columns, basic expectations and personal needs.

A few more blog posts are rattling around in my head too because I need to work through some thoughts. Perhaps tomorrow, as I procrastinate on writing the novel.

Feeling Content, For Once

I quit Skynet.

I finally had enough of their toxic environment. Their policies that are in place to punish employees. And just, everything about them. It was one of the worst abusive jobs I’ve ever had.

I’m free.

Wonder Woman keeps saying I’m a free elf. And honestly that’s what it felt like working there (and I know my team did not have it the worst). I told her I’m very tempted to get some branded socks and do a Dobby photoshoot in them.

However, only sorta free.

I’m still technically employed with them until the 15th, but I’m not longer logging in as of today because I am on leave to help take care of mom. We were hoping she’d be home today but may be another night for observation. She has one more benchmark to hit.

Surgery went well. She can talk and has been walking around already. No visitors allowed, but she has been texting when not asleep. High pain levels but that’s to be expected when they fuse your vertebrae together.

It being my first day of leave, I’m puttering about.

Right now I was texting ebbf and realized how content I was.

Im sitting here, drinking coffee that was gifted to me (it’s yummy and makes me happy), working on my data analytics certification, and roasting squash to make my mom soup.

Feeling content is weird and terrifying in a way.

It’s not a feeling I have been able to hold onto in the past. Trauma upon trauma in my life taught me it wasn’t safe to trust a happy feeling. Happy feelings can be taken away. And they were so few, you start to tell yourself if that one goes away there won’t ever be another.

I’m realizing how far I’ve come just now.

That I can sit and enjoy this moment. Knowing and understanding it will end at some point. But also that there will be another. I don’t know when, but it will happen. Some of those moments I will have to carve out and create for myself. Others will come to me. From people, from changing environments.

I’m not terrified anymore that they won’t happen. The thing that I find difficult now, is seeing how strong I’ve become. Like being a reader to a novel, watching the character arc. Seeing how comfortable I can get in these moments. Knowing what I would do to defend them.

I have friends that tell me they’ve watched me grow and are proud of me. Those words and moments always mean so much to me.

It’s just somehow scary recognizing myself without anyone prompting me. Without anyone telling me it’s ok.

I’ve had a lot of conversations recently that have started more introspection again. Of who I am and where I’m at. Where I’d like to be. For another post.

Today I will sit with this feeling and enjoy my day.

I’m going to spend some time with my brother, playing video games. And my Puppers of course. I’m going to be kind to myself.

Just give myself this moment to be in.

2020 is Hindsight

The last few weeks of 2020 was…a blur. Incredibly hard emotionally and mentally.

I spent most of it disassociated, dealing with time dysphoria, reeling in triggers, smothered with work stress, and a few more alliterations.

My environmental toxin levels have risen and I’m doing my best to just keep my head up, and not snap anyone else’s off. I’m making no promises.

I’ve been in a weird creative flux of having a lot of really amazing ideas and sparks of joy, but by the time I have addressed work and then family, I have no spoons left. I’ll be locking myself away in my room tomorrow or Sunday to see if I can actually get pen to paper. Or fingers to keys. Whichever. I wish I were in a position to just take a few days in a cabin somewhere. Have a mini writing retreat. Not currently with SiP restrictions again, but in general.

What I did notice that’s different this year, my thoughts of the past are less. I think of them less. Heathcliff, Bertha, and Rochester. Last year I was still an emotional mess. This year I had a fleeting moment they received in my thoughts. Mostly because anniversary of my Nana’s death, and they were fairly heartless about it/drama revolves around it that included them 2 years ago. And then a twinge of, “ah yes this is the time of year I was ghosted completely by Rochester”. Then it was gone and I didn’t think on any of them again until I started to recap now.

I’ve been more occupied with these burst of existential crisis. Questioning my life choices. Staring at the debt I want to get paid off. Picking at these old wounds of what can I actually accomplish. Staring at all the things I’m good at, but not amazing at. Both wanting to monetize something I enjoy and having a deep distaste at the notion.

I don’t know how to get to what I want or need. Things seem too far away (like being out of debt), and my 9-5 has started me back into a hopeless spiral. A feeling of total inadequacy and self doubt that I thought I had dug myself out of a couple years ago when it comes to my value as an employee and my skill set. Financially, I can’t leave yet. I need to make sure I receive my stocks so I have any hope of investments. But it’s slowly burning away all of my confidence and drive.

I’m trying to focus on what I can control, which is always easier said than done. I’m going to work on balancing what I can outside of work. Get routines setup again. Meditating, yoga, exercise, journaling, and making time for things that mean more self care for myself. Whether that’s writing, or making art, or vegging out to some video games.

I’m not making any huge “2021 yaaasss Queen” goals or resolutions. I’m just going to try to keep moving towards a life that isn’t only surviving. I’d like to one day have a year with rest, and more good days than bad. This year I wrote down more things than usual on my grateful list. Hopefully, next year they increase again.

Just another day, hour, and moment closer to my ultimate goal of a cozy life.

Respawn

Is it just me, or in a game have you ever killed yourself on purpose?

Like hear me out. You know you have crossed a save point not too far back, but you totally mucked things up and now you’re at a point where you can no longer advance game. So you just yeet yourself off a cliff or into enemy fire knowing you’re going to be at that respawn point.

That’s what I’m about to do.

I have and continue to make a shit ton of progress. Sometimes it doesn’t feel that way. Especially right now. I’m having to relearn and rework a lot of coping skills for various reasons.

• Not being on serotonin supplements
• Being without regular body work care
• Gaining weight back
• Living with family
• Working from home
• Fucking pandemic
• United States of fuckery

These are just a few things because sparkle brain hit in the middle of the listing. Like literally went “squirrel”. No, I’m a fucking squirrel. Marshall is a squirrel, but I don’t have Marshall, I should take a break from Animal Crossing too.

This is just to say, it’s ok to have to respawn. You save data for a reason. You push through to that save point for a reason. You know things are about to get really real and you’ll need to fall back. Maybe not, probably at least once, but you have the security of knowing that you didn’t lose everything.

That’s what I’m choosing to do Friday.

I’m gonna respawn.

I was stuck in a corner. I was hurting myself emotionally and psychologically. I have been figuratively bashing my head against my past, and against my trauma. I stopped doing things that I know help me. I was actively choosing a path that I knew would not advance me. I’ve really just been feeling sorry for myself on a lot of levels and placing blame in places or people that I have no control over.

I’m shutting down all my social media accounts for awhile. I had been holding on because of my performer side, but there’s nothing happening there right now. I’m just getting triggered on a daily basis. I can’t help anyone until I help myself. I can’t help myself if I’m staring at things daily that are keeping wounds open or creating new ones. I need to stop dedicating time to doom scrolling that I could try to put towards things that benefit me.

I’m not where I want to be.

But I can’t get there if I just keep walking into the same wall, all because I missed a step the first time.

Respawn. Reload.

Put it down and let it go.

Part of me wonders how disappointed I would be if I looked at all these past blog posts, and it’s just my broken heart over and over again. It’s just my hurt I keep seeing. Part of me wonders if anyone ever read this, would they ever want me in a romantic way?

To be clear, I have found solace in my solitude. I’ve tried the whole dating app thing recently and I’m just realizing how amazing someone will have to be for me to green light that shit, but also I wonder with how painfully honest I am about myself…once they see this. Once they see the cycle. Will they see the growth? Or just the pain and bitterness? Will they get hung up on my heartbreak like I have?

So.

YEET.

What/Who is Home?

Home is a tricky subject for me. It always has been.

I have lost count of how many times I’ve moved. Before the divorce it was around 15-16. After the divorce. Well there was the move into the not safe place, and then the move into the too good to be true place, and soon the move back “home”.

We’ve been binge watching movies, and Frozen 2 was one of them.

“I just thought of one thing that’s permanent – love.” ~ Olaf

I think a big part of it is that home always needed to be people for me, because places weren’t permanent. I learned as I was growing up, that people aren’t either. So Olaf is wrong. Love isn’t permanent. People stop loving you and leave all the time. There will be times you stop loving someone and leave. More things I want to say, but also not.

But I promised a gratitude post.

What am I grateful for right now?

That even if those bajillion moves sucked, I always had somewhere to go. That even now, I have a roof to be under. I moved out when I was 19. I’ve been able to take care of myself that whole time. This is still me taking care of myself, just a little differently. Maybe the next move will be a place I can truly make a physical home in.

I’m grateful that my family is always there for me. That I’ve always had a place to come back to. I’m grateful in a way that it took me this long to have to call in. In hindsight, maybe I should have moved home right after the divorce that’s still not final. But I didn’t. I tried to do it on my own. I didn’t exactly succeed, but I also don’t feel like I failed.

I’m grateful that I have friends expressing wanting to see me, which you know COVID-19 is kinda blocking. That some have made offers to help or have outright paid me for things to help with making my bills. It looks like I’m going to put in my 30 day on the 1st (April’s fools? Not at all sadly).

I’m grateful that my family doesn’t just want or expect me to pack up who I am and not spill over into the house. My mom actually asked me if I’d like to put my up some of my artwork through the house.

I’m grateful that I have grown so much! That I get a second chance to spend time with my mom. When I was growing up, things were bad for us. Now she’s one of my best friends, and I know she’s been having a hard time. Between Haru and Turtles passing, my brother being gone more, and the multiple surgeries. She’s felt lonely. Maybe we’ll actually finish some of our projects with me living with them for awhile.

I’m grateful that my brother has been doing so much at the house. He got a storage unit and started moving things from the garage to that so it’s easier to go through all the boxes that have accumulated from all of us. Made a trip over there today to assess the damage haha

I’m going to unplug for now. Feeling various emotions suddenly.

Onward